


And in the spring I shed my skin

by sansaswildlinglover



Series: Midas is King and he holds me so tight... [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Anal Play, Animal Bride, Animal Transformation, Biting, Blow Jobs, Choking, Come Marking, Cunnilingus, Dark Jon Snow, Dry Humping, F/M, Jealousy, Manipulation, Mild Blood, Minor Violence, Possessive Behavior, Post-Resurrection Jon Snow, Pregnancy, R Plus L Equals J, Rough Sex, Sansa is a selkie-inspired werewolf, but Jon doesn't tell Sansa because reasons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-08 20:30:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15251451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sansaswildlinglover/pseuds/sansaswildlinglover
Summary: As a child, Sansa had never understood her sister's desire to run wild and free. She had always been perfectly content sitting inside, playing at being the perfect lady she'd hoped to become one day. But after spending years as a caged bird, only allowed to sing the songs her captors wanted to hear, her heart sped up at the tantalizing thought of true freedom.***Jon Snow no longer felt guilty for the things he wanted, he had no family left whose birth right he would be usurping, there were no gods to punish him after he died again.Title and opening quote from Florence + The Machine(I used to be Lemoncake_Chioni)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [reader_consumed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reader_consumed/gifts).



> Your curiosity and enthusiasm were exactly the encouragement I needed :)
> 
> Thank you!

As a child, Sansa had never understood her sister's desire to run wild and free. She had always been perfectly content sitting inside, playing at being the perfect lady she'd hoped to become one day. But after spending years as a caged bird, only allowed to sing the songs her captors wanted to hear, her heart sped up at the tantalizing thought of true freedom.

In the end, Alayne had become nothing more than another cage she'd been forced into and when the moment came it failed to serve its sole purpose of protecting her, she finally gave in to desperation and temptation. She prayed to the Old Gods to help her, to free her from all the suffering she'd been through.

And they listened. That morning, when Sansa Stark donned her plain grey gown, she didn't turn into Alayne. Instead, she became a wolf.

 

_A man who's pure of heart and says his prayers by night  
May still become a wolf when the autumn moon is bright_

 

The North was finally shedding the last traces of winter, the snows melting away to reveal the lands underneath. Spring had returned, but it hadn't brought peace with it.

Food was still scarce, and the people of the North were still recovering from war and the other hardships they'd been through at the hands of kings and other monsters.

A rider had come to Winterfell, sharing the tale of a wolf prawling the edge of the Wolfswood. The smallfolk feared for their children and their lifestock.

Jon knew he could leave this task to others. As King and Lord of Winterfell he had other duties. But it had been one of those days he'd come close to choking one lord and punching another one in the nose, so he'd decided to take Ghost and venture out to investigate.

They followed the beast's tracks southwest along the border of the forest, Jon slipping in and out of the mind he shared with his direwolf. It had become the most natural thing for him after the Red Woman had brought him back from the dead. Some days he felt more wolf than man.

Ghost's ears perked up and he ducked into the low foliage, hackles rising and excitement pumping through his veins as he led them deeper into the forest. 

The darkness swallowed them, but their other senses were sharp enough to keep them moving along swiftly. The scent they were following was unfamiliar, wolfish yet different. Perhaps Jon should be scared, but he was caught up in the exhiliration of the hunt.

Ghost faltered, and Jon sniffed, quickly realizing the cause of his hesitation. The scent was fading until it almost disappeared. They decided to keep following the faint remant of it until they could see yellowish green light filtering through the trees ahead of them and picked up a whiff of something different, something sweet.

Wolf and man reached the edge of a clearing and hunched down behind a double-stemmed tree. Jon blinked against the bright sunlight reflecting off the pool he could spy from between the branches.

There was no sign of the wolf nor any other creature, but the surface of the water rippled until it was broken by a naked woman with dark red hair rising from the pool.

When he had still been a nameless bastard and he'd convinced himself no woman would ever want him, he would have averted his eyes. He would tell himself to pay no attention to such ideas, his fear of fathering a bastard discouraging him from even considering the possibility.

Now he looked his fill. After all, he was used to being looked at himself nowadays. Women who wouldn't have spared him a glance before would now blush and flutter their eyelashes, the bolder ones even winking or offering him a seductive smile.

It made him gloat. It made fury rise inside his chest. They didn't care a fig about him. It was only his title and his power they were interested in; the hero that brought back the dawn, the Ice Dragon. But he hardly ever turned down anything that was offered.

He always made sure not to take any risks and only spilled his seed where it couldn't take root. He reminded these girls he never made them any promises and eased his guilt with the knowledge that they didn't really care about him, not truly.

The woman rising out of the pool was a beauty, more comely than any girl he'd had. Her red hair was plastered to her face and shoulders, covering one breast, but leaving the other perfect one free, revealing a lovely pink puckered nipple. Drops of water glistened on her pale skin, stretched over soft long curves.

He wanted to chase those drops with his tongue, wind those long red strands around his fists, nuzzle his face into the thatch of curls between her thighs, which were a brighter red than the hair on her head.

She stretched her arms to push her hair back and his cock felt heavy in his breeches at the way her body flexed and swayed. She opened her eyes and recognition dawned on him. Her face was familiar, yet different and he hissed, inadvertantly rocking back on his heels.

A twig snapped under his foot and Sansa froze. She twisted and bent over, for a moment leaving him mesmerized by the view she was offering him.

She rose, holding a grey cloak or coat in her hands which she swung around her shoulders and suddenly she was gone. In her place was a slender silvery wolf, too large to be an ordinary beast, but still smaller than Ghost.

He blinked, his mouth falling open at the impossiblity of what he'd just witnessed. It took him a while to collect his wits and by the time he'd leapt out from between the trees, she was gone.

He called her name several times, but to no avail. Unlike him, Ghost kept a clear head and started following her scent.

She managed to throw them off several times and Jon resorted to calling out to her again whenever that happened. It would never take long before they were back on the right trail again when he did so.

His lips curled back in a smirk and excitement rippled through his body at the idea that she was luring him in. She wanted to be caught.

Eventually they were led back to the same clearing, where she was already waiting for them, human and naked again. She narrowed her eyes at him, her body leaning toward him.

"Jon?" she whispered hoarsely.

He kept his distance and nodded. Suddenly her nakedness seemed to bother her and she tried to cover her body with her hands.

He licked his lips, holding back a grin, but not averting his eyes. She stared back, but then ducked her head. He unfastened his jerkin and offered it to her.

She accepted it but kept plucking at it after she put it on. She folded herself onto the forest floor, sitting cross-legged in the grass as she kept staring at his face.

He kneeled about a foot away from her, leaning against a large rock and smiled at her. "I can't believe I've found you."

She eased closer to him, reaching out to touch his face, brushing her fingers over his scars. "It's really you," she said.

He nodded, even though it felt like a lie. "Come with me," he told her. "I'll take you home."

She pulled her hand away, shaking her head. "I can't."

His fist clenched of its own accord. "Why not?" he demanded.

"I'm not the girl you used to know, Jon," she snapped.

"I can see that. You're not the only one who's changed," he pointed out, reaching for her hand.

She growled at him, and his grip tightened. He took deep, calming breaths. "Winterfell belongs to you."

"Not anymore! Let go of me!"

He squeezed, but released her quickly. "The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives," he repeated the words Ned Stark had recited to him and Robb all those years ago. Jon had always been the lone wolf and he'd died indeed, but he'd come back stronger, if perhaps not better, but that didn't really bother him.

Of all the women he could never have, Sansa had been the most torturous case. She'd been forbidden and unattainable in so many ways, but now they'd both changed, and he wanted her more than ever.

Jon Snow no longer felt guilty for the things he wanted, he had no family left whose birth right he would be usurping, there were no gods to punish him after he died again.

"I understand," he sighed. "I'm only your bastard half-brother." He pushed himself to his feet and turned around to walk away from her. "But I'm all you have left. Remember that when you're out here all alone. Goodbye, Sansa."

He took three steps to the far edge of the clearing, where Ghost was waiting for him, and stopped.

"Jon, wait!" she called out.

His nostrils flared in victory and he allowed a grin to spread across his face before he turned back to her and offered her a sad smile.

***

Many years had passed since Sansa had been among as many people as were gathered in the Winterfell courtyard. A number of them eyed her suspiciously, others stared and a few offered her curt nods or tightlipped smiles.

She understood it would be hard for them to believe Sansa Stark had finally returned to Winterfell. She could hardly believe it herself. For such a long time she'd hoped and prayed she would return to the childhood home she missed so much, even if it was the place she'd wanted to get away from as soon as she was old enough to have dreams.

But as she had told Jon earlier, she was no longer the girl she used to be. She'd given up her name and her dreams when the pain had become too much to bear and instead, she'd chosen freedom. It was hard to breathe within these walls, with so many people gathered around them.

Jon was talking to several people, leaving her alone for what felt like too long a time. She twisted her hands into Ghost's fur. Part of her wished she could hold onto Jon in much the same way, but he'd become even more of a stranger to her than he'd been when they were children. He had a smell about him she didn't like when she was in her wolf form, but at the same time she wanted to be near him.

Her fingers itched to touch him again, like she'd done in the clearing, wind her hands into his hair and explore his skin, perhaps even taste it, but she was sure it was only her wolf instincts confusing her now that she was in her human form.

For now, Ghost was safer, so she clung to him as Jon led them back to the keep. She followed him up the stairs to the family quarters. He only stopped walking when they reached the door to her old room. He turned to face her and arched an eyebrow.

She wrung her hands together but nodded. He opened the door and they all entered. She plucked at the sleeve of the jerkin he'd offered her. Part of the girl she used to be had slipped through when she'd tried to cover her nakedness, but now the piece of clothing was itching and making her sweaty, so she decided to take it off again.

Jon's eyes roamed over her body and she found that she didn't mind him looking at her. Perhaps it should bother her -- he was her brother after all -- but it had been a long time since they'd seen each other. It seemed natural that they'd both be curious.

She was about to point out it would only be fair that she'd get to look at him as well, when he interrupted her and asked: "Are you hungry?"

Her rumbling stomach disrupted her intention to finish her earlier train of thought.

"I'll have something brought up from the kitchens for you," he told her. He paused at the door before going out to find a servant. "Stay," he commanded firmly.

"I'm a wolf, not your lapdog!" she objected angrily.

His teeth gleamed in the dimly lit room.

She waited for him, simply because she had nowhere else to go, but she wished she could disobey him, show him she was not his to control. She didn't have to stay. If she decided she wanted to go back to the woods, she could leave at any time. Her wolf skin was safely hidden in the cave, her freedom was hers for the taking.

Jon returned with a tray of food. She sat down on the floor and tore off a chunk of bread. She dunked it into the stew and bit into it. It all tasted off. There were honeycakes on the tray as well. She tried those, but they tasted bland.

Soon she found herself picking at the food, her hunger not satisfied, but almost forgotten.

Jon whistled and she looked up involuntarily. He chuckled and threw something her way. Instinctively she caught it.

It was a nice piece of raw red meat. She tore into it. It was difficult to eat with human teeth, but it tasted much better than any of the other food Jon had brought her.

He was watching her. She could feel his eyes on her, could sense him coming closer. She chewed away, sucking and tearing at the meat, a satisfied groan escaping from her throat as its juices ran down her chin. 

He was close enough now for her to hear his heavy breathing, to feel the heat of his body. He was kneeling next to her again, his head cocked to the side, only a small sliver of grey still visible around his pupils.

She finished her meat, ignoring the shiver that ran up her spine and the warm tingle spreading just below her skin. She glanced up to meet his eyes, which dropped to her mouth and then lower still.

He leaned in, clasping a hand around her shoulder and lowered his mouth to her collarbone. He ran his warm wet tongue up her skin, lapping up the juices that had trickled down her throat, as his hand burned through her naked skin.

His touches reduced her to a panting mess, her heart pounding so violently she was certain he could hear every beat. As a wolf, she wouldn't have minded this. As a wolf, she would have appreciated it as an affectionate gesture of him showing he cared for her, that he still considered her his pack.

But to her human body, his actions aroused unfamiliar sensations that scared her and excited her at the same time. He sucked on her jaw and she was sure her bones had dissolved inside her body. She wanted to tell him to stop, she wanted to ask him to keep going. And then it was over.

With a last neat lick up to the corner of her mouth he pulled away, releasing her shoulder as he lightly trailed his fingers to her throat. He brushed them along the side of her neck, his thumb pressing down and for a moment she thought he meant to crush her windpipe.

"There," he rasped, removing his hand. "All clean again." His eyes were fully black now and his lips glistened all plump and red. "Good night, little wolf." 

And with that, he left her sitting there in the middle of the room, as if nothing had happened. Several minutes passed when all she could do was blink and try to catch her breath, but suddenly she felt cold.

Exhaustion washed over her, but she knew she'd never be able to sleep after this.  _"Stay,"_ he'd ordered her earlier, but that had been before he'd returned. She started pacing around the room, noticing the robe that he'd spread out on the bed for her.

It took her a while to realize her restlessness wasn't just caused by Jon. This room used to be hers, but now it seemed too small, it was hot and suffocating. She needed to get out.

She grabbed the robe, wrapping it around herself, and darted to the door. She didn't meet anyone in the hallways and made it to the outer doors without being stopped. She stopped to breathe in the fresh night air, letting its coolness settle on her skin as she closed her eyes.

She hissed when she heard an almost imperceptible noise to her right, but smiled when she recognized the source of it. Ghost was waiting for her. "You understand, don't you?" she asked him.

He only stared at her with those knowing red eyes. He led the way when she started running again, seemingly already aware she was heading for the Godswood.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me what you think!
> 
> Next chapter will be up on Wednesday :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon is worried about Sansa. They have a disagreement. None of this stops him from teasing her. Jon starts to realize the intensity of his feelings for Sansa, but he's also keeping a secret from her.
> 
> Warning for Jon behaving slightly abusive in this chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to everyone who left comments, I'll reply to them later!

For the third morning in a row, he found her in the Godswood, naked and curled up on the forest floor, back pressed to Ghost's side. He wished he could take the place of his direwolf and lie down beside her, bury his face in her hair and feel her soft heat on his own skin. He would touch her until she whimpered his name and begged for him to take her. 

He dropped to all fours, tossing aside the robe he'd brought for her. Ghost's scent clung to her, but Jon would have liked it more if she smelled like him. He leaned in to sniff at her throat, taking great care not to wake her. Her breasts were concealed by her folded arms and her knees were pulled up. He could push them down and spread her legs, revealing her most intimate place to discover what she smelled like, he could even have a taste of her, just one.

Or he could lap up everything she gave him, caressing her with his lips and tongue until she forgot her own name and shuddered under his touch. He imagined how wet she'd be for him and how good the hot sqeeze of her cunt would feel around him.

Just thinking about it had him hard and aching, but it would have to wait. If he just wanted to fuck her, he could have done so the very first day, out in the woods. He'd get to it eventually, but he wanted more from her.

"What am I going to do with you?" he wondered aloud.

Sansa's sudden appearance had caused somewhat of an uproar among his bannermen. Some insisted she must be an imposter, others questioned her sanity or her purpose in returning to Winterfell after all those years. He was sure a number of them were already scheming to use her for their own advancement.

He didn't worry about them. His time as a wolf had left him with the ability to sniff out foes and he'd take care of them when the time was right. Killing all of them was not an option though, so he'd still have to find some way to placate them into accepting his plans.

He was sure the lords would come up with some colourful objections to his future wife sleeping naked in the Godswood, let alone him fucking her there, so he'd better wake her up before others could rise to see him smuggling her back into the keep.

***

Sansa kept returning to the Godswood. "I don't like it inside," she told him as they entered his solar, letting the cloak he'd offered her drop to the floor. "It feels like a cage."

Her eyes lit up. "We could go riding together, or hawking!"

He offered her a smile, sitting down at his desk. He was amused by the idea, but suspicion was holding him back. The Sansa he used to know never liked any of those things. She must be trying to hide something behind her wide-eyed excitement. "I can't," he sighed. "I have duties to attend to."

Her face fell. "You wanted me to come home to be with you, but you're never here when I need you!" she shouted at him.

All of his muscles tensed, his fingers itching to wrap themselves around that pretty white throat. He glared at her, but she didn't falter. He leapt to his feet, reaching for her. She spun away but he grabbed her wrist and pulled her flush against him.

Her nostrils flared as she struggled against him bending her arm behind her back so he could keep her close. She bared her teeth, lips curling back in a snarl. He didn't back down, instead he leaned in, nuzzling against the side of her face.

She wound her free hand into his curls, pulling his head back sharply. He groaned in pain and anger, as a sharp hot pang of arousal shot down to his groin. He clasped her elbow with his free hand and she jerked, probably suspecting he was trying to free himself.

He found her eyes, and slowly, he started moving his hand up her arm, holding her gaze as he started rubbing circles into her shoulder with his fingers. She still wasn't fond of clothes, so she was only wearing a thin shift, and he could feel the heat of her body seeping through the flimsy fabric. 

He caressed the skin of her neck, feeling her pulse speed up under his touch. Her grip on his hair loosened and he brushed some stray curls back from her face, running his thumb over her cheekbone. She released him and hissed when he wrapped his hand around the back of her neck. He pulled her closer, pressing their cheeks together.

He moaned into her her ear, rolling his hips into hers. She would be able to feel his arousal now, just like he could feel her heat. He ducked his head and started kissing a trail up her jaw as he kept his hips moving, making her breath hitch. He stopped and she whimpered, a low whine in the back of her throat. 

"You want me to keep going?" he asked, lips grazing the shell of her ear.

"Yes," she keened, and tried to move against him, but he kept her firmly in place.

"I don't think so, little wolf," he smirked. "I'm not very pleased with you right now." With those words and one last peck to her earlobe he released her and returned to his desk, even if it was the hardest thing in the world in that moment. 

***

Jon descended the stairs down into the darkness of the tombs, torch in one hand, sword in the other. He kept expecting to hear the hiss of voices trying to drive him back up the steps, perhaps even a spectre of one of the Kings of Winter jumping out of its tomb to chastise him, but nothing happened.

Still he felt uneasy. He didn't know whether his sword would be any help with the foes he might encounter here, but he kept a firm grip on it all the same. He didn't want to be here, but it had to be done. 

He didn't like Sansa's restlessness. He needed her with him, by his side, in Winterfell. He'd ordered some jewellery and nice fabrics, he had asked around about musicians. He believed she was starting to get used to human food again, so perhaps soon he'd be able to get his hands on some lemons.

She'd finally begun sleeping in her bed again as well -- but only if Ghost was there and they left all the windows open. Things seemed to be moving in the right direction, but Jon was wary.

He'd been putting this off for too long and he knew he could no longer avoid it. Talking to the Red Woman was not something he was looking forward to, but it had to be done. If Sansa's problem was magical, he was sure Melisandre would have an answer for him.

***

The Red Woman's advice hadn't satisfied him. If anything, it had annoyed him and fed his doubts, but he'd sent Ghost back out to the Wolfswood to retrieve the damn thing anyway. Wherever it was, it couldn't be far from the clearing where he'd found Sansa. 

His thoughts were disrupted by a knock at the door. "Enter!" he called out,  not surprised in the least to see that it was Sansa who came in.

 _Why do you keep coming back?_ he wondered.

"Jon?" she started, clasping a hand over her mouth at the sight of the scars on his naked torso. Slowly she started closing in on him, causing hot and cold sparks to run up and down his arms and making his chest feel tight. 

She put the palm of her hand on his chest, igniting a fire underneath his skin. His eyes fluttered closed. Gently she traced every scar with the tips of her fingers, brushing them down until his muscles rippled under her attentions. 

 _Yes,_ he thought,  _touch me, make me..._ Un uneasiness seeped into the pit of his stomach.After years of wavering between anger and numbness, a vagualy familiar, disturbing awareness was stirring deep inside of him. Suddenly it was all too much, her closeness, her scent, her soft hand touching him.

His eyes flew open and he grabbed her wrist, pushing her away. She froze, catching his gaze before her eyes narrowed and her body relaxed again. Quickly he released her. 

She blinked. "Where is Ghost?"

He should have expected it. "Out hunting," he answered. 

"Oh." Slowly she walked to the window, staring out over the courtyard and further still, the moors.

He clenched his jaw before joining her. He wrapped his arms around her waist, revelling in her soft warmth as he buried his nose in her hair, taking in her scent. 

Her shoulders rose and fell in a sigh. 

"What is it?" he asked her, not lifting his face from her hair. 

She only shrugged in response.

His fingers tensed on her stomach. "You wish you were out there with him, don't you, little wolf?" 

She remained silent, so he moved his lips to her ear and whispered: "Don't lie to me, Sansa. Tell me, do you wish you could join Ghost to hunt and run through the woods with him?"

A single tremble ran through her body before it went rigid in his arms. "I do," she confessed.

"You wish to leave me?" His voice quivered.

"No! Of course not! You don't understand," she tried to hush him, turning around to clasp her hands over his shoulders.

"You do," he accused her, fingers digging into the skin of her lower back.

She shook her head. "No, Jon, no!"

"Say it," he growled through gritted teeth. "Promise you won't leave me!"

"I promise, Jon," she breathed, hands gliding up his neck and into his hair. "I will never leave you!"

He pressed his forehead to hers. "Good little wolf." He tilted his head to capture her lips in a kiss, swallowing her gasp of surprise. 

Her fingers tightened in his curls, pulling delicious pricks of pain from his skull. His hands roamed lower, cupping the firm round swell of her arse to pull her closer as he took advantage of her parted lips to slide his tongue into her mouth. 

He stroked her tongue with his own, sucking on it before pulling back to nibble on her lip, and she retaliated by biting down on his bottom lip, then licking it to soothe the sting. He peppered her lips and jaw with kisses, nipping at it, before he closed his mouth over her pulse point, sucking hard and then flicking his tongue up to her earlobe, their bodies swaying to the rhythm of his mouth.

Finally he pulled away, the both of them panting and their hearts hammering together. "Stay," he rasped. "Stay with me tonight."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a little shorter, but it felt like the right place to end it, probably because I'm even more of a tease than Jon here :')
> 
> Next chapter on Saturday!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been having a terrible headache for the last couple of hours (I mean a roll on the floor in misery kind of headache when it really hits me) so I'm not going to finish this chapter tonight :'(
> 
> I guess it was getting a bit long anyway, but since I promised you a chapter today I guess I'm just going to give you this little smutty bit tonight!

After Jon had made her tremble with his kisses last night, and asked her to stay, Sansa had fully expected him to bed her. She'd wanted him to, still did, even if part of her was mortified by her foul desires.

The sensible part of her, the part she thought she'd lost when she became a wolf, told her it was wrong to feel lust for her half-brother. But her body wanted what it wanted. Perhaps she wasn't supposed to stay human for this long, perhaps that's why she couldn't trust her instincts in this form.

She loved Jon, even though she hardly knew him. She wanted him, but sometimes he'd look at her or say something and a shiver would run down her spine, bringing up the hairs on her neck and arms, almost as if her hackles were rising.

She wished to be a wolf again, so everything would be simple and she didn't need to doubt herself all the time. As a wolf, it was easy to tell which impulse to follow: hunger, thirst, fear or sleep, there was never any hesitation.

Jon wanted her too, she could tell by the look in his eyes, she'd seen it before. And after what happened the day before she knew it was more than the thrill of a man acknowledging a woman's beauty. Yet she wondered why he'd stopped before they could take things further, not just once, but twice. 

The second time, he'd picked her up, and she'd wrapped her legs around his hips as he carried her to the bed. She'd been ready for him them, even if the weight of his body looming over her brought back bad memories from before.

But Jon wasn't Harry, if he'd just wanted to use her and abondon her, he could have already done so. 

Yet he'd only caressed her side and thigh as he kissed her lazily and nuzzled his face into the side of his neck before rolling away and bidding her goodnight.

He must be repulsed by what he felt and by the acts they'd committed. Still, at times it seemed as if he cared very little for her, even though he'd asked her to come home with him. He got angry with her so easily when he noticed she longed for the woods. She didn't want to leave him, but she missed being a wolf and she wished she could tell him about that.

Now he was lying beside her, an arm possessively draped over her and his hard manhood pressed between her arse cheeks. It set her intimate place ablaze with an almost liquid heat.  

She moved up and shifted until she could feel him hot and hard against her folds, still separated by her shift and his smallclothes. She canted her hips experimentally and felt his member throb in response. 

She bit her lip, releasing a shuddering breath. She felt tension coiling at the apex of her thighs, so tight it almost hurt. She tried moving again and the feeling was so intense she couldn't hold in the whine that escaped from her throat.

Jon stirred behind her. She froze, holding her breath, but it was too late. "What are you doing, little wolf?" he asked sleepily.

He didn't wait for an answer, but started rolling his hips until another whimper burst from her lips. He chuckled and turned away, pulling her along until he was lying on his back and she was straddling his hips.

He smiled up at her, eyes dark with desire. "Go on then," he said, slapping her thigh.

Heat flushed her face, but she closed her eyes and started rocking back and forth, surrendering herself to her instincts. As soon as she started moving she felt liquid trickle down her thighs.

"Look at me," Jon commanded. "You're soaking my smallclothes," he said when she opened her eyes. His nostrils flared. "I can smell you."

He pulled her down, her hair cascading down around them and found her lips. His hands folded her shift up until she felt cold air hitting the back of her thighs.

His hands cupped her arse and started kneading it as he bucked up into her. He splayed his fingers and slowly spread her cheeks, his fingertips gradually gliding into the crease of her arse.

She groaned at the sensation, burying her face in his neck. His hardness moving against her fed an aching tension in her core, spurred on by the ministrations of his hands. 

His fingers danced around her hole, slowly closing in. She never could have imagined she would desire or enjoy being touched there, but the gasp she released when he pushed one fingertip inside her, was one of pure pleasure.

All the things he was doing to her overwhelmed her and she wanted to pull away and tell him to stop, but he held her close and then something snapped, and ecstasy rippled through her body.

Jon flipped them over and despite her haziness, she wrapped her legs around his waist to keep him close, hands weakly clutching at his curls to pull him in for a kiss. He indulged her for a while, but soon he untangled her legs to sit back on his knees. 

His hands caught the neckline of her shift and ripped it apart down the middle. He took his time to look at her. The desire in his eyes was more intense than lust, it made her want to look away, but she couldn't. 

He bent down to take a nipple into his mouth, the pull of his lips shooting straight down to her core. _Yes_ , she thought. _Take me, take me now!_ But to her surprise his mouth just travelled lower, until his lips were level with her mound.

He grinned up at her. "I just want to have a taste," he told her. He inclined his head and licked up her slit, once, twice, smacking his lips as if she was a particularly tasty meal. 

She propped herself up on her elbows to watch him. The girl she used to be would be repulsed by such an improper act, but Sansa found herself watching in fascination, slowly surrendering to the wonderful sensation of his tongue slithering through her folds as broken whimpers fell from her lips.

He groaned, the vibrations of it intensifying the pleasure, and met her eyes as he hummed: "You taste so sweet, little wolf!" He pressed his tongue against the little spot that was throbbing again and her hips bucked up. He slid his hands up to grab her hips as she tangled her fingers into his hair.

His grip was bruising her as she struggled against it so she could rut against his mouth, and a growl ripped its way through her chest, desperate as she was to chase that glorious feeling. He chuckled and pushed down harder as he sucked on that sweet nub, driving her closer, driving her insane as she thumped back against the pillows, eyes fluttering closed.

Jon's own hips were snapping into the mattress and she vaguely realized he must be desperate to find his own pleasure by now. 

Finally his hands loosened their hold and he started using them to guide her hips, moving them in time with his lips and tongue. She pulled on his hair, fingernails raking his scalp, which earned her a grunt, and suddenly white light exploded behind her eyelids, her body floating for a moment before she sank back into a wonderfully warm bliss.

She opened her eyes to find Jon climbing up to straddle her waist, his smallclothes gone and his hand wrapped around his member. "I want to come on your pretty teats," he panted. "Would you like that?"

What she truly wanted was to have him inside her, for him to fill her up and soothe her emptiness, but she was beyond objecting, so she crooned: "Yes!"

She kept her eyes on his face, watching it grow tense and slightly red as he approached his climax. She wondered what it would feel like to pull his hips up and forward and take him into her mouth, if she could make him spill into her mouth and what he would taste like.

But before she could act on any of it, his jaw went slack and with a final grunt his seed spilled onto her breasts. It was warm on her skin and it trickled down her sides and neck and into her hair. She ran a finger through it and sniffed it, before popping it into her mouth. It tasted a little bitter, but it was Jon, so she decided she liked it. 

She glanced up at Jon's face. He looked as if he was ready to devour her.  

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa gets jealous, and so does Jon...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've read all of your comments: you're all so sweet and they make me so happy! It took six hours and a long nap to get rid of my headache, but it's gone now! (I once had one that lasted for three days, the horror!)
> 
>  
> 
> Enjoy!

Sansa found herself crossing the hallway to Jon's chambers again. He'd asked her to come over after his visit to Wintertown this morning. She hugged his cloak closer, burying her face in it. The hallways weren't particularly cold, but she liked having his smell all around her.

She reached his door and wondered whether she should knock, when she heard a sound that made her heart sink into her stomach. Inside Jon's solar, a woman laughed. At first it felt as if she'd swallowed a large piece of ice, but then her body began to tense up, fury starting to boil up from the pit of her stomach. She opened the door.

Jon was sitting at his desk, glaring at a ledger, and closer to the door a curvy blonde scrambled into a clumsy curtsey at the sight of Sansa. She gave the girl a long stare before she nodded. She hadn't missed the way the blonde had been eyeing Jon the moment she walked in.

The girl hastily left the room, probably trying to escape Sansa's glare. Jon kept frowning at his ledger, not acknowledging her presence.

Perhaps she should leave, let him chase after her if he still wanted to talk to her. She bit her tongue, but the question came out anyway. "Who was that?"

He looked up slowly. "Bredget? She's one of the serving women."

She pursed her lips as she approached his desk. "I didn't like the way she was looking at you."

"Oh?" He arched an eyebrow. 

Her nostrils flared. Explaining it would only make her sound silly. "I heard her laughing."

He shrugged. "I must have said something amusing."

"You don't have a talent for humour," she blurted out, clenching her fists.

He remained annoyingly calm. "People always try to placate those in power when they think it might benefit them."

"And how would it benefit her to  _placate_ you?" she hissed, gripping the edge of the desk, as she narrowed her eyes at him.

He leaned back in his chair, tilting his head. "I fear I am missing the point."

She snapped, releasing the desk to throw her arms up in the air. "Do you think I'm a fool or a lackwit, Jon? What am I to you? A plaything? Only one of many?"

He pushed himself to his feet, emotion finally breaking through his cold facade. "I haven't fucked another woman since before the day I found you in the Wolfswood!"

"Strictly speaking, you haven't fucked me yet either!" she accused him.

He glared at her, opening and closing his mouth. "Fine! I haven't _touched_ another woman since then!"

"So, did you use to fuck _Bredget_ before?" she asked, hoping to sound indifferent.

His answer was short. "No."

"But there were others," she stated.

"Dozens." She couldn't tell if he was lying to provoke her. 

"Who were they?"

He shrugged again. "It doesn't matter."

He was right. It didn't matter. It was clear it didn't mean anything to him, that he didn't care about those women the way he cared about her. And in her anger, she found that she no longer doubted her instincts. She believed him. He hadn't had another woman since he found her.

But his taunting was driving her mad and she couldn't help but think about his own exaggerated response whenever he was displeased with her. "If any of them are still living inside the walls of Winterfell, I want them gone by sunrise!"

"Do you, little wolf?"

"Winterfell belongs to me," she reminded him, using his own words against him. 

Slowly he walked around the desk, his eyes never leaving hers, but his face gave nothing away. He curled one hand around her waist, cupping her cheek with the other. "Aye," he said softly. "As do I. I'm all yours, little wolf."

She leaned into his touch, taking deep breaths to calm herself. She had to remove any lingering doubt. "What was she doing here?"

"Delivering a gift," he answered. 

She blinked. "A gift?"

His smile made crinkles appear in the corners of his eyes. "Something I've had made for you." He took her hand. "Come. Cover your eyes."

She obeyed, holding her free hand over her eyes, giggling as he led her into the bedroom. She only stumbled once, her senses a little weaker than they were when she was in her wolf form, but still sharp enough. 

He pulled her close, back against his chest, arms wrapped around her waist. "You may look now."

She removed her hand and opened her eyes. On the bed was an exquisite silk gown.

The skirt was full and dove grey. The bodice laced at the front and was a deep blue close to the colour of her eyes. It had an overlay of white Myrish lace, and there were small dustings of it in the shape of snowflakes on the skirt as well. It had short bell sleeves made of multiple layers of that same lace. The neckline was trimmed with sapphires.

"It's beautiful!" she gasped. She picked it up, hugging it to her to smell and feel the different fabrics. She didn't miss the silvery wolf sewn onto the back of the bodice. Carefully, she dropped it back onto the bed and turned around in Jon's arms.

"You shouldn't have!" she told him. "I can't wear this!"

He smiled. "You can. And you will. Tonight at the feast we're having in your honour."

She pushed against his chest, but he held onto her. "I can't, Jon, I can't do it."

"Hush, little wolf," he whispered. "I know you can. Your bannermen want to meet their lady, Sansa."

***

Sansa felt a little nauseous as she entered the Great Hall. Her undergarments were smothering her and sweat trickled down her spine, but the silk of the dress was like a liquid caress on her skin. 

All eyes in the hall followed her as she walked through the doors and to the dais at the far end of the room. Her stomach flipped and her heart kept trying to jump out of her chest. Her eyes met Jon's and she knew he could tell how nervous she was.

He held her gaze until she reached the dais and took her place beside him. He stood to help her into her seat. All guests rose to drink to her health and her miraculous return, and then the food was served and they all focused on their plates.

Sansa hardly noticed what she was eating and refused the wine and ale she was offered. After the meal was finished it seemed as if every single person in the hall wanted to talk to her. 

She met several Manderlys and Glovers, several men from the mountain clans and the new Lord of the Hornwood, the former Larence Snow.

Barbrey Dustin and her brothers Roose and Rickard cornered her, and although their words were nice enough, Sansa didn't like the way the men leered at her nor the look of contempt on Lady Dustin's face. She was ready to growl at them when Jon took her by the elbow and led her back to the dais.

She tried to cling to him, nuzzling her face into his neck and cheek, but he reminded her: "Not here, little wolf" and she blushed in embarassment. They sat down for a while, Jon holding her hand under the table, but then he got called away by a man she didn't recognize.

Lord Cerwyn approached the dais to ask for a dance and she couldn't think of a good way to refuse him. She almost hissed at him when he put his hand on the small of her back, but once the dance started, she realized it wasn't that bad. She was beginning to enjoy herself, but bitter guilt started to taint her joy when she noticed Jon glaring at them.

When the song ended, Ethan Forrester was already waiting for her, eager to take Cley Cerwyn's place. Sansa glanced around, but she couldn't find Jon. She accepted and found herself laughing in exhiliration. This dance was more cheerful and faster than the previous one.

Afterwards she excused herself as quickly as possible, afraid lingering would only attract more men seeking her attention.

She returned to her seat at the dais, pulling Jon's cloak from his chair to wrap it around herself, breathing in his scent. She scanned the room, but still couldn't find him. He must have left. She couldn't do this without him. She needed to get out of here.

She slipped out of her chair and out the door, so she could flee to the Godswood. 

Several feet into the trees beyond the outer wall, Sansa shrugged off Jon's cloak and let it slide to the forest floor, breathing in the cold night air. 

"Aren't you enjoying yourself, little wolf?" Jon appeared from behind a tree, a tankard of ale in his hand.

She smiled. "I was," she said, almost surprised at her own words. "But I needed some air."  _And I noticed you were gone._

He glared into his cup. "I don't like seeing you with other men."

"It was your idea," she pointed out. "You said they wanted to see me, you thought I should talk to them."

"I've changed my mind," he announced, draining his tankard before tossing it aside. He stalked toward her, backing her up against a tree.

"Having to watch you with them, smiling, talking, laughing, was torture, sweet little wolf," he continued in a low voice. He sounded calm enough, but she recognized the anger behind the way he emphasized every single word.

"Seeing that one oaf put his hands on you..." His voice trembled with rage now. "I wished I could-- He stopped there, hitting the bark beside her head with the flat of his palm.

She hissed. "It was just a dance, Jon," she said, collecting herself as she draped her arms around his neck. "I'll dance with you if you like."

A shadow passed over his eyes, as if he was somewhere else for a moment. "You'll dance with me anon," he whispered, and then shook his head.

He put his free hand on the small of her back and pulled her roughly against his solid body. "You don't understand, Sansa," he growled, his hot breath hitting her face. "They want to take you away from me."

"I would never..." she started, but he silenced her with a look.

"Some of them are even planning to use you to overthrow me, don't you get that, Sansa?"

Her lips parted in surprise. "I wouldn't let them," she whispered, feeling the heat of his body seep through the layers of clothes they were wearing.

He kissed her cheek, right under her left eye, and she could feel him smiling briefly. He pressed his forehead against hers. "They'll dance with you, and tell you amusing stories, feed you pretty words, but there's one thing you have to remember, little wolf."

"What's that?" she breathed.

"All they want is your claim and your body." It was a painful truth, one she'd learned a long time ago.

He pulled back to look at her, his eyes glittering in the dark, and cupped the side of her head with his free hand, fingers brushing the shell of her ear. 

"I'm the only who wants  _you,_ Sansa, remember that," he declared, his voice trembling again, but there was no anger in it now. "I'm the only one who cares about you."

"I know, Jon," she breathed. "And I only care about you."

He dragged his fingers down her cheek, curling them around her throat. He squeezed, but only lightly. She dug her nails into the skin of his neck, warning him, urging him on, she couldn't tell.

"Tell me you're mine," he insisted, pressing down harder.

"I'm yours," she squeaked, clawing at his shoulders.

He loosened his grip. "Tell me again."

"I'm yours, Jon."

When he released her, it stung a bit, but he gently rubbed her throat, soothing it. But there was another ache deep inside of her, becoming more urgent with every passing moment. 

She bit her lip, rubbing her thighs together. She wanted to have his full attention for this. "Jon?"

He glanced up at her. 

"Jon, I want you," she breathed, pulling him in for a kiss.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon is desperate to claim his mate, Sansa just wants to be fucked.  
> Jon pops an unexpected question. Sansa deals with some bad memories.  
> Also, somebody dies.

The moon was full and the night was cloudless and Sansa looked lovely. Her hands slid down to his chest and back up to his neck to play with the hair on his nape. Her lips and teeth explored his mouth and the lower half of his face,  nipping at his chin and jaw.

She caught his earlobe between her teeth and bit down on his neck. He growled and grabbed a fistful of hair, twisting her head back to expose her throat. He closed his teeth over it, dragging his tongue over the marks he left.

He nipped at the flesh on the side of her neck and sucked a bloom onto her pale skin.

"Jon, I want you," she repeated when he pulled away, panting. Hearing her say those words made his chest feel tight, even as blood flowed to his groin. 

"You have me," he reminded her.  

Her face twisted into a cross between a glare and a smile. He loved seeing that look on her face. 

He ran his hands over her tits, kneading them through the layers of her bodice. He trailed them down her curves, pulling her hips against his own as he rolled them into hers.

He lowered his mouth to her neck again, sucking on all of her sensitive spots, and then moving lower to nip at her collarbones. Her hands were in his hair again, where they always seemed to be. 

He released her to undo the lacings of her bodice, but his hands fumbled with the delicate fastenings for too long, so he impatiently ripped them apart until her breasts spilled free and sapphires were flung into the darkness of the trees. 

He wrapped an arm around her waist to pull her close and cupped one teat in his free hand while closing his mouth over the other. He flicked his tongue over one nipple and rolled the other between his fingers. The moans that fell from her mouth vibrated through his body, all coming together in a coil of heat deep in his groin. 

He released her nipple with a pop and licked a stripe between her tits. Her skin tasted salty and sweet, but it was nothing compared to the taste of her cunt. He lowered himself onto his knees and burrowed under her skirts.

He could already smell the heady tang of her arousal. He made quick work of her smallclothes, ripping them off, and pushed her thighs apart. He used his thumbs to pull her lower lips apart, wetness soon coating their pads. 

He went in for the first lick, trying to lap up as much of her juices as he could with one stroke of his tongue. He groaned into her folds, the glorious taste of her making him hard.

He slid his hands around her hips to grab her arse, squeezing it in time with the strokes of his tongue.

He could have gone on like that forever, but Sansa's groans and her desperate attempts to cant her hips, trying to push her cunt into his face, told him she needed more.

He moved one hand to her hip, strumming the soft flesh with his fingers, raising shivers and goosebumps as he went along.

He slid his hand all the way down to her knee, switching legs to run his fingers up the inside of her thigh. He brushed his fingertips over her folds, letting them slip in between her lips, circling the sensitive flesh between her two holes.

Sansa had enjoyed him teasing her arse the last time, but now he wanted to feel her hot wet cunt. He teased her entrance with one fingertip, her hips jerking at the slight intrusion. He dipped his finger into her, sliding it up until he was knuckle deep inside of her and moved it in a tight circle to explore the wet heat of her silky inner walls.

When her muffled gasps faded, he added a second finger and started thrusting them in and out of her dripping cunt, sucking on her nub again. He groaned at the overwhelming feeling of having her heat and smell all around him. 

Her moans reached his ears, even through the layers of her skirts, almost driving him mad with desire, as her thighs started quivering and her walls tightened around his fingers. He flicked his tongue against her swollen nub, curling his fingers inside of her and a gush of liquid ran down his hand and into his beard as her cunt pulsed against his mouth and fingers.

"Jon," she sighed, slumping against the tree trunk, and his throbbing cock strained against his breeches.  

"Jon!" she cried out again. "Come back up here!"

He slipped his fingers out of her, taking his time to lick them clean before he rose to his feet. She fisted her hands into his doublet to pull him close.

Their lips crashed together and he steadied himself with a hand against the tree behind her, carding his free hand into her hair. She nipped at his lips and he pushed his tongue into her mouth, moaning at the knowledge she would still be able to taste herself.

Instead of sliding up into his curls, as they usually did, her hands travelled lower and started undoing the lacings of his breeches. She snuck one of them into his smallclothes and wrapped it around his cock, stroking him experimentally.

"Jon, I need you," she insisted.

"Is it need now?" he asked, holding back a groan.

"Need, want, it doesn’t matter," she panted.

"Tell me exactly what you need, Sansa."

She hesitated, biting her lip. "I need your cock inside me!" she whispered urgently, running her fingers up his length for emphasis.

He nuzzled her cheek. "We shouldn't..."

"Jon, please," she whimpered, spreading the moisture leaking out of his tip with her thumb.

He covered her hand to still her movements, trying to think. " What if I get you with child?"

"I don't care." She squeezed him, biting down on his lip, before glancing up at him through her lashes. "I just want to be yours, Jon," she breathed.  "Truly yours."

Those words nearly unmanned him. It was all he'd wanted to hear from her for such a long time now. He could hardly believe she'd truly spoken them.

He snapped his teeth at her, capturing her lips in a kiss one more time, swirling his tongue around hers before rucking up her skirts, pushing them into her hands. "Hold these," he told her.

He freed his cock and lifted one long pale leg over his hip. He used his hand to line himself up and entered her, pushing in as slowly and steadily as he found himself capable. He whined at the unimaginable pleasure of finally being inside of her, his eyes rolling back at the tight, hot squeeze of her.

He started moving, her sopping cunt welcoming his cock again and again. "Mine," he growled with every slow hard thrust, meeting her darkened eyes. Every stroke was pure delight, heightened by her needy whimpers, but he needed to get closer, wanted to feel more of her.

He reached for her other leg, hauling it over his hip, drawing a yelp from her lips as he lifted her off the ground. She wrapped her arms around his neck as she locked her ankles behind his back.

He wrapped one arm around her hips and tore at the fabric of her skirt, trying to pull out the layers that had been caught between them and were still preventing him from getting close enough. He pulled her hips hard against him and the sound of silk ripping interruped his groans of frustration as he finally sank deeper into her.

He grabbed her hips, pushing her roughly up against the tree, and rasped into her ear: "Aye, that's it. You're mine, little wof, all mine."

She clawed at his back, fingernails scraping the skin of his neck as he rocked into her. Hot pleasure filled his groin, spreading through his body in a heady tingle. Sansa seemed to grow wetter with every thrust and her muscles kept tightening around him.

Tighter and tighter she squeezed him and his pace grew more frenzied, the pressure in his balls increasing. He lifted his arm to find support against the tree trunk again, his other hand moving to her lower back again. 

She moaned at the slight change in angle, digging a slippered heel into his lower back. She clenched and fluttered around him with a sharp cry, and the hot coil in his groin snapped. He roared as waves of pleasure rippling through his cock pumped his seed into her cunt.

He rocked into her, drawing out his release, relishing the feel of it in his entire body until he could feel her nails digging into his shoulders. He stilled, slipping out of her as he put her down, imagining how his seed would soon start trickling down her thighs.

When his ragged breathing had slowed down, he took her face in both of his hands and kissed her. She giggled, trying to chase his mouth when he pulled away, but he only allowed her a small peck.

"Marry me," he whispered against her lips.

***

_Cersei took a sip from her cup, smirking down at it as if its contents amused her. "No one will ever marry you for love," she told Sansa, her golden face gloating as she glanced up at her._

_Harry's breath hit her face, sour with wine. His kisses were sloppy and a little too wet to her liking, but she accepted them eagerly._

_He palmed her breasts roughly, sliding his hands down to pull up her shift. She'd already removed her smallclothes and she was glad for it, for it seemed to please him._

_He stuck a hand between her thighs, cupping and squeezing her womanhood, slipping a finger in between her folds. He untied his breeches and climbed on top of her._

_It stung something fierce when he stretched her open and the pain didn't fade when he started moving. She pursed her lips, involuntary tears springing from her eyes._

_"Gods, you're tight," he groaned into her neck, snapping his hips. She closed her eyes and waited for him to finish._

_When he did, his weight nearly crushed her and she was grateful when he rose. She glanced up to find him staring at the blood on his member._

_"You really were a maid, huh?" It was more of a statement than a question._

_"When will we be wed?" she asked him when he'd cleaned up and tucked himself back into his breeches._

_"Soon," he promised before disappearing through the door._

_She was bent over a table this time, Harry driving into her from behind. It didn't hurt as much as it did the first time, but it wasn't pleasant either. She held herself still until she heard him grunt, meaning he'd found his pleasure._

_"Father asked to discuss the wedding with you," she reminded him after._

_He blinked. "What wedding?" He offered her one of his dimpled smiles. "I've already had you." He started walking for the door, but paused at the last moment. "And quite frankly, you weren't anything special, Alayne."_

_Her body tingled with pleasure, Jon's manhood-- no, cock, she reminded herself, filling her up and hitting a sweet spot inside of her. Pleasure overwhelmed her and Jon grunted into her ear as he spilled inside her._

_He kissed her lips and she couldn't help herself. "When will we be wed?"_

_"Wed?" he asked with a smirk. "I've already had you, little wolf," he reminded her._

Sansa woke with a gasp, stretching her arm and patting her hand around. She was lying on the ground in the Godswood, her head pillowed on Jon's chest and half of her body draped over his.

Last night's memories started coming back to her and she sighed in relief, nuzzling her face under Jon's chin. He groaned and wrapped his arms more tightly around her.

He surprised her by rolling on top of her and languidly kissing her neck. He nipped at her earlobe and kissed her cheek. "Good morning, little wolf," he greeted her.

He propped himself up on his elbows and his eyes roamed over her face and body. "You look ravishing," he told her. He took hold of her wrists and locked them in the grip of hand, pinning them down above her head.

"I love your red hair," he continued. "And your blue eyes. And that soft pink mouth." He leaned in to kiss her, rolling his hips into hers. 

"And your tits, fuck, your tits," he rasped. He stretched his arm and twisted down so he could close his mouth over her right nipple while still mostly holding her wrists down. Eventually he released them so he could use his hand to cup her other breast.

She arched her back, desperate for his attentions, ready to surrender to the sensations his mouth and fingers were arousing in her body again, but he pullled back and frowned.

"I ruined your pretty dress," he pouted, fingering a piece of ripped silk.

She laughed. "You'll get me a new one."

He raised an eyebrow.

"For our wedding," she said boldly, before she could think better of it.

He glanced up, searching her eyes in silence, and she wanted to squeeze them shut, but she took a deep breath and stared right back.

"Aye, for our wedding," he said softly and smiled down at her.

She swallowed. "But, Jon... How...? I don't understand." She shook her head.

"Do you trust me?" he asked, still not averting her eyes.

She resisted the urge to bite her lip and nodded.

"Then trust me," he said simply. "Where was I?" he wondered, not waiting for an answer, before going back to lavishing attention on her breasts. She fisted her hands into his hair, keeping his mouth where she wanted it, bucking up her hips, seeking to satisfy the ache she was starting to feel.

"Eager, are we?" he laughed, kissing a trail up her sternum, dipping his tongue into the hollow of her throat before moving to her neck. "I love your legs," he whispered into her ear. "Especially when you have them wrapped around me."

She noticed his right hand was fumbling between their bodies, untying his breeches and moving the remnants of her skirts aside. Gently he ran his finger up and down her slit, dipping it into her folds before pulling it back and bracing his weight on his elbow.

He found her eyes and lifted his finger to his mouth, licking and sucking it clean as he held her gaze. "And I love your sweet hot cunt." His voice was reduced to a low rumble now."It feels so good, and it's mine."

He lowered his hand again to guide himself inside her. There was no pain as he stretched her open, only the glorious feeling of being filled.

***

Sansa wished they could have stayed in the Godswood, sleeping and cuddling, kissing and fucking all day. For a while she believed she had Jon convinced, but then he burst her bubble by announcing they needed to get back to the castle.

She didn't really care for his explanations, so she cut him off and said: "Fine, let's go then."

He wrapped his cloak around her to hide her ruined dress and she smiled at the gesture, hoping he'd be wrapping another cloak around her shoulders soon. Though perhaps, she thought, she should be the one to cloak him and make him a Stark. 

He'd like that, she mused. She would tell him when they were back in his chambers. Perhaps it would be enough to make him want her and take her again. She tried to ignore the light flutter in her core at the thought of having him inside her again.

She moved closer to him as they entered the courtyard, trying to catch his eye and throw him a seductive smile, but she was rudely interrupted by a steward running up to them.

"Your Grace!" the boy called out. "My Lady," he acknowledged Sansa, before turning his attention back to Jon. "There has been an accident, Your Grace. Lord Cerwyn has been found dead."

Sansa gasped. "What happened?" Jon asked.

"It's assumed he got too far into his cups last night and fell down a flight of stairs," the steward continued. "The poor man broke his neck."

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An angsty Jon gets kinky while taking a bath with his lady wolf, there's a modest wedding, Sansa tries something new in the bedroom and she has big news for Jon!

Jon helped Sansa out of her tattered dress and into the massive bathtub. He removed his clothes and joined her. He sat down behind her, his legs on either side of hers, so she could lean back against his chest. 

He combed her hair back with his fingers, twisting it together so he could drape it over her left shoulder, revealing the soft white skin underneath. He picked up the soap and a washing cloth to lather her arms, back and shoulders in slow circles. He paused regularly to press his lips to her neck, flicking his tongue against the light dusting of freckles on her shoulders.

He was grateful for her silence. He knew he had made a mistake. He hadn't planned this. It hadn't been necessary, but he had done it anyway.

He'd instructed his men to look into the circumstances of Cerwyn's death and to search for witnesses. There wouldn't be any. He'd made sure of that.

Killing Cerwyn hadn't been necessary. He'd found out last night that the Ryswells were the real threat. He could smell the lust and malice on them as they had cornered Sansa, the stench of greed strong and sharp in the air.

He'd have to take care of them later, but it would have to wait now. Too many deaths too soon would draw suspicion, and he wanted to avoid that.

He'd also needed to send word to Jonelle Cerwyn. He could only hope she wouldn't decide to make the trip to Winterfell to retrieve her brother's body.

He nuzzled at Sansa's neck, trying to calm himself down by breathing in her scent. He dropped the cloth and wrapped his arms around her waist.

If only he hadn't been warged into Ghost when his direwolf found that sodding fool knocking on the door to Sansa's chambers. Perhaps things would have gone differently then. But they hadn't. What's done was done.

He'd be able to control the damage. The consequences would be minimal. What he hadn't been counting on was Sansa's reaction. She'd been quiet ever since they'd heard the news, but he didn't need her to talk to him to know that she was upset. 

He told himself it didn't mean anything. Despite her years of being a wolf, the Sansa he'd used to know slipped through more often of late. Underneath all her wolfish ways, she was still soft enough to be affected by a near-stranger's death.

She was too good for him, but he wanted to believe that after all his years of suffering, he deserved to have something as pure as her. 

And she wanted him, she was his, she'd chosen him. She deserved to be loved and no other man could ever understand how precious she was.

But he wasn't pure or precious, he was a selfish bastard who took what he wanted, the one thing he'd once feared to become. He believed she suspected as much, and she didn't even seem to mind, but he'd done things, unspeakable things, worse than killing Cerwyn. He could only hope she'd never find out about those things.

He was a killer, a traitor, a turncloak and a kinslayer.  _She_ had been worse than him, ever wanting things she shouldn't want, and it had ended her.  _No,_ he had ended her. This wasn't the first time he had to blame a death he'd caused on an accident.

It was the cursed blood, he was sure of it. He'd seen it in her, and he could feel it in his veins: this fire, this desire for more, always more.

Sansa could never know. She wanted him, she'd given herself to him, despite still believing him to be her half-brother. That thought gave him an inexplicable thrill, but it wasn't the reason he couldn't tell her.

He was certain Sansa would forgive him almost everything, but not this. After all, it was the one thing he could never forgive himself for. 

"Jon?" she asked, and his eyes flew open. His entire body had tensed up, his arms locking her in an iron grip.

"What is it, little wolf?" He willed himself to relax his muscles.

"Are you all right?" Her voice was soft and full of concern.

"Are you?" he countered her question.

She didn't answer either.

"Don't worry about me, Sansa," he whispered. "Don't worry about anything. Let me take care of you."

He slipped his hand into the water and in between her thighs, sucking on her earlobe. He reckoned they could both use the distraction. He found her nub with his middlefinger, pressing down on it ever so gently, moving the hood of her nub back and forth in a small circle, making small waves lap against her legs.

He lifted his other hand to cup her tit, rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. He buried his face in her hair, closing his eyes so he could hear and feel her body's response. Under the surface of the water, his cock stirred to life.

Her breathing grew shallow, a mewl escaping from her lips when he pinched her nipple. Her slippery hands gripped his thighs, and he hissed when her nails dug into his flesh. He bit down on her neck, earning him a growl.

He released her teat, splaying his fingers on her collarbones, focusing his attention on the rhythm of his other hand at the apex of her thighs. The skin of her back was damp where it was pressed against his chest, beads of sweat mingling with the steam from the bathwater.

For a moment he slipped his fingers lower to collect her wetness, groaning when the smell of it hit his nostrils. Her hard nub throbbed against his fingers when he moved them back up. He rubbed it more insistently now, the sound of water splattering joining her moans.

He ran his fingers up and down her throat, fingernails scraping her skin. Her hand flew up to cover his own, urging him to curl his fingers around her throat, so he did.

"Harder," she encouraged him. He squeezed and her hips bucked up, water splashing to the far end of the tub and back. His hard cock pulsed against her lower back.

He tightened his grip on her throat and pressed down on her nub, flexing his finger. Her nails raked the skin of his thigh, her other hand gripping the edge of the tub. He could feel her body growing tense.  He squeezed harder and rubbed faster until her back and hips arched up and she cried out her release.

She slumped back against him, water sloshing back and forth in the tub, her thighs clamping shut around his hand. He released her throat and twisted her around in his arms, inclining his head to lap at her bruised skin. 

Sansa grabbed his shoulder, hauling herself up until she was straddling him. She splayed her hands on the sides of his neck and leaned in for a kiss, nipping at his bottom lip and chin. She looked beautiful, with her face still flushed from her climax and her wet hair sticking to her skin.

She lowered one hand into the water, wrapping her fingers around his cock and stroking him, before lining him up at her entrance. He grabbed her hips, helping her sink down on him.

She threw her head back, moaning at the intrusion. He could still feel her cunt fluttering around him. She braced her hands on his shoulders, rocking her hips experimentally, but it didn't take long before she found her rhythm.

Water sloshed over the edges of the bathtub and onto the floor as she bounced up and down on his cock, but Jon didn't care. Sansa was fucking him and all of his worries had been forgotten. 

***

Jon had kept his promise. The gown he'd ordered for their wedding was even lovelier than the one he'd given her for the welcome feast. 

It was made of white silk and grey Myrish lace with dozens of sapphires sewn into the bodice. It left her shoulders bare and the dagged sleeves were so long they almost touched the ground. The belt, the hem and the neckline had a pattern of howling direwolves, all embroidered in silverthread. 

The ceremony was simple, held according to Northern tradition. Since there was no one left to give Sansa away, she'd decided to give herself to Jon. She liked that idea, and she hoped it would please him.

The wedding feast was a quiet affair. It would have been disrespectful to turn it into an elaborate affair so soon after Lord's Cerwyn's untimely demise within Winterfell's walls. 

Besides, decadent feasts were for the summer, not for the first spring after the longest and hardest winter the North had known in many a lifetime. And despite everything theirs was still an unusual union.

"They understand it's what's best for the North," Jon had assured her only a couple of days before, when he'd told her they would be wed soon. "Leaving you unmarried and unprotected is too much of a risk. it's an open invitation for squabbling and strife."

He'd turned around, talking to an imaginary audience instead of her.

"And even if we manage to keep peace in our lifetime, there's no telling what the next generations will do. When I was the only one left, the succession was simple, but now that you've returned, our bannermen are finding it hard to agree on the best way to proceed... What if our children or grandchildren bear each other ill will because of a decision that is made today?"

Her hand had dropped to her belly at his mention of the word children, but she'd pulled it away before he'd turned to face her again.

"None of this is untrue, of course," he had murmured, holding her gaze as he cupped her cheek. "But I can't say it's of any great concern to me, nor should it be to you. All that matters is that you're mine, and I'm yours, and we can be together."

He'd kissed her deeply then, making her head spin and her heart hammer. She'd whined and rubbed her thighs together, but he'd pulled away before she could seduce him into taking their kiss further.

"When will we be wed?" she'd asked, her voice uneven. 

"Soon, little wolf," he'd promised her. "Soon"

 _Soon,_ she thought, watching the merrymaking from her seat on the dais.  _I'll tell him tonight, when we're alone._

Sansa only took a couple of bites from her and Jon's joined plate and didn't drink from the cup they shared. She was dying to sink her teeth into a piece of bloody meat. She licked her lips as she imagined how sweet and juicy it would be.

She didn't dance with anyone but Jon. It was their wedding feast after all. He was not a greatly skilled dancer, but she enjoyed the touch of his hands and the closeness of his warm body.

There was no bedding ceremony. Sansa left the feast early and Jon followed soon after. She was already  out of her wedding gown and naked as her nameday when he entered their bedroom.

His eyes grew large and his lips curled into a smirk. He closed the distance between them in three long strides, pulling her roughly against him. "Are you ready for me, wife?" he muttered, rubbing their noses together.

Her answering whimper was swallowed by his fierce kiss. His burnt hand cupped one of her breasts, the other one curling around the back of her neck.

She tangled her hands into his curls, parting her lips so he could lick into her mouth. He trailed his lips down, down, down, his tongue darting out to caress her skin, his teeth nipping at her neck and breast and hipbone. 

He groaned as he nuzzled his face into the curls covering her mound, and when he parted her lower lips with his thumbs to press a gentle kiss to her nub, the hot ache in her core had almost become unbearable.

She pushed her cunt into his face, and he chuckled as he grabbed her hips. He lapped at her like a man mad with thirst, driving her closer to the edge with every swipe of his tongue, her eyes fluttering closed under his attentions. 

Her legs trembled and she tightened her hands in his hair, trying to keep herself upright as her body was assaulted by the oncoming force of her release, moans and whimpers following each other in quick succession.

He closed his lips over her nub, sucking hard, and her climax washed over her, a soundless cry ripping its way out of her throat.

He kissed his way back up to her neck, supporting her shaking body and kissed the shell of her ear. "Get on the bed," he ordered her in a low growl.

She shook her head. 

"Wives are supposed to obey their husbands," he reminded her, but his tone was playful. She'd become familiar with this game. A little bite or a defying growl would always arouse him.

Her lips curved into a smile.

"Careful now, little wolf," he warned her, trying to push her back to the bed.

"No," she snarled, eluding his grasp and tearing his doublet open. "Take off your clothes, husband," she ordered him. "There's something I'd like to try tonight."

There was only a narrow sliver of grey left around his pupils. His nostrils flared, but he started removing his clothing, his burning gaze never leaving her. 

His cock was hard and leaking when it sprang free and she felt a satisfying thrill at the thought that she had caused it to be like that. She licked her lips.

She closed the distance between them, resting her hands on his shoulders, and inclined her head, kissing the scar over his heart before catching his nipple between her teeth.

He hissed, trying to catch her wrists, but she bared her teeth, and he dropped his hands. She rewarded him with a kiss, but pulled his bottom lip between her teeth when she retreated.

Slowly, holding his gaze, she lowered herself onto her knees. His eyes grew impossibly wide and completely black when she licked her lips again. The last time she'd seen his cock from this close up, she'd still been caught up in the haze of her very first peak, so she took her time to study it.

It looked better than the ones she'd seen before, proud and thick and smooth, and she decided to tell him so. "You have such a pretty cock," she purred.

Jon gulped. She wrapped her fingers around his length, putting her thumb over the bead of liquid welling up from the slit of its head.

Last time she'd been so impatient to get him inside of her, but this time she wanted to learn the feel of him. His cock was hot and heavy in her palm, but its skin was soft like velvet. 

She stroked him up and down. She squeezed and twisted lightly, spreading the moisture under her thumb, drawing grumbling sounds from Jon's throat. She used her other hand to cup his balls, lightly raking her nails through the coarse black hair covering them.

She'd wanted to do this for a while now. She lifted his cock to press a kiss to the wrinkly skin covering his balls. Jon hissed and fisted his hands into her hair, fingers massaging her scalp.

She flicked her tongue out to run it up his length and swirled it around the head. She licked and sucked at him as if she was kissing him, enjoying the taste and feel of him on her tongue.

"Fuck, what are you doing to me?" Jon groaned. She decided she liked that even more.

She rested her hands on his thighs and took him deeper into her mouth, closing her lips over his length and started to bob her head up and down. At times she was too eager and she could feel him hitting the back of her throat.

Jon moaned every time it happened, so she tried to do it again, but she could hardly stop herself from gagging. A growl of frustration escaped her lips and Jon shuddered, his hands tightening in her hair.

She growled softly again, almost as light as a hum, keeping it up for a while before she tried to take him in deeper again. 

"Fuck!" Jon grunted. "Fuck so good! Suck, sweet Sansa, suck on my cock!"

She followed his instructions, and he whined deep in his throat. He held her head still and started thrusting into her mouth, while she tried to keep sucking on the head of his cock. 

His hips stuttered, his hands tightened in her hair, and his warm seed coated her tongue as he sighed her name. She kept sucking, slurping and licking up everything he gave her, releasing him with a last light kiss to the tip.

He helped her up, pulling her into his arms, and kissed her deeply. She knew he'd be able to taste himself on her tongue, and the thought aroused her.

Somehow they ended up on the bed, kissing and cuddling, nuzzling at each other's faces and necks, licking the sweat from each other's skin.

They dozed off for a while, until Sansa's stomach startled them awake with a violent growl.

"Perhaps you should have eaten a bit more, little wolf," Jon pointed out.

She scrunched her nose up in disgust at the thought of the food at the feast, nestling herself against the pillows.

Jon was lying on his side, propped up on an elbow, staring down at her. "What?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I just-- I could really use a nice piece of raw meat."

He blinked slowly, his eyebrows knitting together. "You haven't craved bloody meat for moons now."

She bit her lip, closing her eyes for a moment before glancing up at him through her lashes. "I think it's because of the babe," she whispered, tenderly lowering a hand to her still flat belly.

His eyes followed her movement and she could see him mouthing the word "babe". For a moment, terror flickered in his eyes, but then joy overtook his features. "A babe?" he asked, his voice rough.

She nodded, beaming at him. "It's early, but I'm certain." 

He pulled her close, peppering her face with kisses, before rolling back and leaping off the bed, hunting for his clothes.

"What are you doing?" she giggled.

He grinned at her. "Going down to the kitchens to get you some meat!"

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've come to the point where this story was always supposed to take a darker turn. Jon was going to do something unforgivable in order to keep Sansa with him.
> 
> But after spending so much time with these two, seeing them grow and build their relationship, I've realized I can't do that to them. I want to at least give them a chance at a happy ending.
> 
> I still want to write the other version though, so once I've finished this, I'm going to write an AU for this story. 
> 
> That being said, I do have to warn you that Jon's secrets are about to come back and bite him in the ass. You already know about 2 of them, but there's another one I've only alluded to... Sansa is going to find out about that one in this chapter, and it's going to get worse before it gets better...

Sansa tore into another piece of meat, groaning as the taste of it hit her tongue. She was growing more insatiable with every passing day, and she wasn't even three moons gone. 

Jon had needed to start sending Ghost out to hunt for her, since fresh meat was still scarce. Once sated, she'd often feel guilt creeping up on her, thinking about the food rationing rules all the other inhabitants of Winterfell needed to stick to, but Jon would have none of it, slightly growling that she should get everything she wanted.

Most of all she wished she could be the one heading out to hunt for her own food, but she was afraid to bring it up. They were so happy together, she had no wish to upset Jon or to make him question her again.

Currently he was sitting only a couple of feet away from her, watching her devour a large piece torn from a young elk's hindquarters.  Ghost had dragged his latest kill into the Godswood, and they'd come here together so Sansa could eat. The servants might get unnecessarily suspicious about seeing animal carcasses being hauled up the stairs to the family quarters. 

When she'd finished her meal, Jon moved closer to put his hand on the side of her neck and kiss her. He was always touching her lately, holding her hand or her arm, keeping his hand on the small of her back, or pulling her close to hold her. She couldn't say she minded his tender possessiveness.

He took her hand to help her to her feet. He draped an arm around her shoulders and tangled their fingers together. He nosed at her hairline as they walked. From the smell she could tell they were heading for the hot springs. Thick, heavy clouds were gathering overhead when they arrived, blocking the sun from their view.

They undressed, and Jon took her by the hip, brushing his fingers over her belly. "When will you start to show?" he asked.

She giggled. "Soon enough."

He trailed his hands up her sides, pulling her into him. "I can't wait to see you grow round and heavy. I want to see that you're carrying my child."

She scrunched her nose. 'Round and heavy' didn't sound as appealing to her as it apparently did to Jon. "You'll get to see it soon enough," she said, bracing her hands on his chest.

He hummed in agreement. "I can smell it though," he mused. "Your scent is more intense." He kissed her temple. "And so is the way you taste," he rumbled into her ear.

Snowflakes started drifting down around them, sticking to their hair and melting on their hot cheeks, the cool breeze that had brought them down raising the hairs on their arms and back.

Jon tucked her hair behind her ear. "Let's get in the water." He helped her into the pool and by the time she was settled in his lap, the snow had stopped.

"I'd forgotten about those," she murmured. "The summer snows."

He kissed her shoulder, staring off into the distance. She turned to see what he was looking at, but there was nothing there.

"Jon?" she tried. He didn't respond until she wrapped her arms around his neck. "What's wrong?" she whispered.

He swallowed, licking his lips. "I want to be a good husband to you," he confessed in a rough voice. "And a good father to our child."

"You are," she insisted, kissing his beard. "You will be," she added, nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck.  

***

Sansa had entered the fourth moon of her pregnancy without any trouble. So far she hadn't experienced the sickness so many women complained about. She suspected she had her wolf side to thank for that. It was time to start preparing for the babe's arrival.

She'd decided to inspect Winterfell's old nursery, where she and Arya and the boys had slept when they were still babes. It was dusty and dark nowadays and most of the burnt furniture hadn't been replaced yet, but knowing that it was still the same room brought her at least some comfort. 

Jon had been gone for over a sennight now to settle a dispute between a village and a new wildling settlement on the far bank of the White Knife. He'd promised to bring her back some fabric and other materials so she could start making clothes for their child. It had been many years since she'd held a needle and thread in her fingers, and part of her wondered if she still had the skill, but she was eager to get to work.

They were also planning to announce her pregnancy soon after Jon's return. The news was sure to please the Northern lords, but no one was happier than Sansa herself. These days she often found herself wondering how it was possible that after giving up on life she'd still ended up getting everything she used to want. At times it almost seemed too good to be true.

She still missed being a wolf and the freedom of running through the woods, but she'd come to accept that she couldn't have it both ways. She couldn't have it all anyway. She'd never get her family back, but then again, if they were all still alive today, she wouldn't be married to Jon, she doubted she'd even want such a thing.

Some wicked voice deep inside of her wondered whether she would be able to give him up, their marriage, their love, their babe, if it meant she could get her family back. She shook her head and rubbed her arms to get rid of the sweaty chill the thought had caused. It wouldn't do to dwell on such things.

Still, she wished she had someone to guide her, now that she was about to have a babe of her own. For the first time in years, Sansa realized how much she missed her lady mother. Slowly she approached the door at the far end of the nursery, reaching out and hesitating before she grabbed the doorknob and turned it.

She hadn't been inside her mother's old chambers since she'd returned to Winterfell. At first she'd stayed in her own old bedroom and after that she'd started sharing Jon's chambers. It wasn't that the thought hadn't crossed her mind, but something had always been holding her back.

She hadn't been inside any of her siblings' rooms either. Perhaps she was afraid that the sight of them would spoil her memories. Perhaps she didn't want another reminder of everything she'd lost. The lord's chambers were different. She'd never been inside the bedroom as a child and she could only vaguely remember visiting her father in his solar once or twice.

She took a deep breath, coughing back the dust that hit her and stepped into the lady's chambers. It didn't match her happy memories, except for the temperature, which felt too hot and too cold at the same time. She could see in an instant that there was nothing left for her here.

Still, her feet carried her further into the room. She brushed her fingers over the carvings in the dark wood of the bedposts, and spotted what used to be her lady mother's favourite chair still standing in its old spot next to the fireplace. When she closed her eyes she could almost see her sitting there, some needlework in hand, herself and Bran sitting on the thick carpet at her feet while Arya was waddling off into some corner. 

There was still a large chest with Tully fish engraved on the lid standing at the foot of the large bed. Lady Catelyn must have brought it from Riverrun when she'd first come to Winterfell all those years ago. She found herself smiling down at it. Suddenly she was overwhelmed by an urge to lift the lid and inspect its contents.

Perhaps she'd find a shawl or a pin, or even some of Rickon's old swaddling clothes. She braced herself.  _It might be empty._ To her surprise the chest was filled with an array of different items of clothing. There were indeed some shawls, a cloak, a nightrail, some socks and a pair of hose.

She touched all the items with reverence, sniffing them to see if she could still discern her mother's scent. She caught a whiff of something familiar, too familiar. She pushed more clothes aside until she reached the bottom of the chest, where she found her wolf skin, neatly wrapped into one of her mother's old bedrobes.

***

Jon was growing moodier with every passing day. The journey back to Winterfell was taking too long to his liking. He longed to be home again, to hold Sansa in his arms and kiss her, to take in her scent and taste her and then sink down into her welcoming heat.

They were quickly approaching the castle now and he'd already pushed his horse so hard he was easily two miles ahead of the rest of his party. Finally the walls of Winterfell appeared on the horizon and he felt like he could breathe again. 

The rest of the ride passed in a blur and soon enough, the gates were opened and he was riding into the courtyard. Part of the household was gathered there to welcome him back, which meant they had been expecting them. He scanned the yard for a flicker of red, his nostrils flaring to detect a hint of her scent. She wasn't there.

A steward approached him, bowing awkwardly.

"Hasn't anyone sent a message to the queen?" Jon asked.

"Your Grace," the boy started quietly, the stench of fear strong on him. 

"Speak up," Jon ordered him.

"There was no time to send word to you," he mumbled. "We only found, only confirmed that... We couldn't be sure before. We searched the entire castle, the grounds, we..."

A tremor took hold of Jon's body, his heart stuttering and his stomach coiling together. "What do you mean?" he uttered through gritted teeth.

The boy's voice was reduced to a whisper. "The queen has disappeared, Your Grace." 

In the blink of an eye Jon's entire vision went red and he snarled. Fury raced through his veins, his limbs shaking as he watched his own fingers curl around the boy's throat.

He could hear the vague echoes of shouts from somewhere far away, until he saw a small hand on his arm. 

He jerked his head in the direction of the person attached to it and met Bredget's panicked brown eyes, saw her mouth moving, but didn't hear the words. "You're killing him," his mind finally registered.

He took in the steward's purple face, his hand wrapped around his neck, the boy's hands clawing at his own and lower still struggling feet dangling off the ground. He released him, and he dropped to the ground in a miserable heap, the stench of piss hitting Jon's nostrils.

He turned around, breathing heavily, blood still pounding in his ears.  _It can't be true._ Perhaps she was still inside the castle walls. She was smarter and quicker than all of them, and her senses were sharper. If she didn't want to be discovered, they wouldn't find her.

Had something scared her or upset her in some other way? At times she still got uncomfortable around other people.  _I shouldn't have left her alone for such a long time._

Perhaps she was in the Godswood. It's where she usually went to calm down.  _Ghost,_ he thought, closing his eyes, slipping into his wolf's mind.

It didn't take long for Ghost to search the Godswood and for Jon to decide that Sansa wasn't there. His initial rage and panic were waning, but they were replaced by a nauseating fear which made it hard to breathe.

An iron fist closed around his heart, a crippling suspicion creeping up on him. He bounded for the Great Keep, flying up the stairs to the family quarters.

When he opened the door to Lady Catelyn's old chambers, it only took him a moment to realize the bedroom was permeated with Sansa's scent, and his eyes quickly confirmed his greatest fear.

The lid of the large chest at the foot of the bed was flung open, clothes scattered all around, and the wolf skin Ghost had found in the cave all those moons ago was gone.

***

Jon wasn't sure what would be the best way to find Sansa. There were no fresh tracks leading into the forest this time and it seemed as if the entire Wolfswood was permeated by a faint hint of her scent, as if she'd been moving all around it.

There was the occasional paw print, which would give him an idea of the general direction to follow, but then he'd find another one leading him down a different path. After an hour he was well and truly lost.

He headed back to the edge of the forest, entering it from the south-east as he had the last time, and tried to keep walking in a straight line. It was well past noon when he saw light filtering through the foliage and smelled fresh air laced with a sweetness he'd recognize anywhere. 

This wasn't the same clearing where he'd found her the first time, but it was similar. It had a pool, bright green grass and wildflowers, and Sansa was right there within his reach, mere feet away from him.

She was sitting with her legs dangling in the water, softly singing to herself as she wove blue flowers into a wreath that was lying in her lap.

He hadn't expected to find her in her human form. He was grateful for his luck. Sansa stopped singing and smiled down at her work. She lifted her flower crown and lowered it onto her head, giggling to herself as she did so.

The sound almost drove him to tears. He clenched his fists, not sure how to proceed. In the blink of an eye he decided to throw all caution to the wind, his desire to be closer to her overwhelming all of his other concerns, and stepped out into the clearing.

"Sansa," he whispered, knowing she would hear him.

She flung her legs out of the water, crawling back on all fours, and growled at him, baring her teeth. The sight before him pierced his heart, but fury started to boil up from the pit of his stomach. 

"Sansa," he murmured again, and then he snapped, advancing toward her. "You said you'd never leave me, but you did! You left, with our babe growing in your belly! How could you do that to me, Sansa?"

"Don't!" she hissed, slowly rising to her feet, body still coiled into a defensive stance. "Don't pretend this is my fault! I was happy as a wolf, I was free from all the pain life had put me through! And I gave it all up for you! I tried, Jon, I tried so hard, but you lied to me! You tried to put me in a cage!"

The bubble of rage inside of him began to deflate. "I'm sorry, Sansa," he whispered. "I'm so sorry. I can do better, please!"

Her face was red and contorted in anger and pain."I gave myself to you," she shrieked. "We made a babe together! I love you, Jon!"

His lips curled up in an involuntary smile, his eyes stinging. "I love you too, Sansa, so, so much..."

Tears were streaming down her face and her hands were balled into trembling fists. "I want to believe that, Jon... But you hurt me, do you even realize that?"

He could see it now, but at the time he hadn't considered it. He'd only wanted her, to keep her close and safe and cherished; to make her his, his Sansa, his little wolf, but he'd feared losing her, so much, too much.

He gulped, wetting his lips and trying to come up with the right words to explain, but it was too late, he could already see the disappointment in her eyes.

She shook her head. "Did you kill Cerwyn?"

He glanced up at her. "I didn't mean to..."

"Spare me your excuses," she spat, ice and acid in her tone. "I trusted you, Jon." Her voice was small and fragile now. "But instead of trusting me back, you tried to trap me!"

He fell to his knees, truly desperate now. "I'm sorry." The lump in his throat made every word he managed to force out hurt like seven hells. "Can you forgive me? We could try again. I'll do everything right this time."

She bit her lip, failing to hold back a broken sob. "I'm sorry, Jon. I can't. Goodbye..."

She bent down to pick up her skin, swinging it around her shoulders, and Sansa was gone. Only moments later, so was the wolf, and Jon was left alone, broken and kneeling in the mud.

He reached for her crown of blue flowers, torn between ripping it to shreds and clutching it to his shattered heart. 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon has a nightmare, followed by a possibly even more horrifying message...
> 
> Jon and Sansa have an eventful reunion...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your comments! I really appreciate them ♥♥♥

Jon hadn't dreamt in ages. At first, after the Red Woman had brought him back, he'd dreamt of falling into the darkness, of being scorched by fire and drowning in blood. Of ice trapping him, seeping into his veins, making it unable to move as he was locked away. In his dreams he kept screaming and kicking, but then he'd see his still body from above and tumble into a sickening spiral of fear and decay.

Later, the wolf dreams had come, or come back, he wasn't sure. Living inside his wolf had been real once, but with time, it often seemed little more than a vague memory of a dream he'd once had. The nightmares didn't stop, but the wolf dreams made it better. At least he felt as if he was able to keep it all together for just a little longer, one dream at a time.

Tonight his dream had started out as any other wolf dream. Ghost was prawling through the Wolfswood. He'd met another wolf, a she-wolf with fur shining like the moonlight reflecting off the water. The direwolf knew her and tried to greet her, but she growled at him. He didn't snarl back, but retreated, overwhelmed by a pain the wolf didn't understand, the man words sadness and regret being whispered by the voice that sounded like his own.

But then the dream had shifted, sunlight slowly trickling into the darkness and the sound of laughter and song echoing from afar until it became as clear and close as the sound of his own heartbeat. Sansa was dancing and singing in a meadow, her blue flower crown perched on her brow. One hand cupped her swollen naked belly while she used the other to keep her hair from falling into her face.

"Sansa," he whispered, and she hissed.

She started to run and he shouted for her to wait. Instead she started running faster. He took off after her, never quite catching up, and as they ran, the air began to grow hotter, until it was sizzling all around them.

"No!" he called out, but it was too late. He'd driven her straight into a blazing fire. He couldn't hear the screams coming from her agonized mouth, but her flesh was already melting off her bones, the babe inside her whirling down into a pit of embers, its small body dissolving even more quickly than its mother's.

Jon gasped as he was startled awake by the nightmare's gruesome ending. He fell back against the pillows, panting and his heart pounding in his ears.

He dressed quickly, trying to think of anything but the dream he'd woken from and headed for the Maester's Turret. He'd been going there every morning since Sansa's disappearance to find out if there had been any news. 

He'd kept up the habit, even after he'd found out exactly where she was and that she wasn't coming back. He knew maester Alderman wouldn't have any news about Sansa anyway, but it was better to keep up appearances.

The maester welcomed him with a look of pity that bothered him, but he clenched his jaw and opened his mouth to ask his daily question.

"Nothing, Your Grace," the maester answered his unspoken inquiry. "Only this." He handed Jon a scroll sealed with brown wax, three sentinels pressed into the seal.

Jon tore it open and read the message.

 

_To His Grace King Jon of Houses Stark and Targaryen, the White Wolf, King in the North and Lord of Winterfell_

 

_Once again I would like to express my gratitude to you for chasing away the wolf that had been stalking the edge of the Wolfswood._

_Unfortunately it seems that your brave deeds have been for naught. The beast has returned and the smallfolk are becoming anxious again._

_I'm assembling a hunting party to bring the wolf down. With your permission I'll have its pelt sent to Winterfell as a gift for your new bride._

 

_Eddara of House Tallhart, Lady Tallhart and Mistress of Torrhen's Square_

 

Jon crumpled the message in his fist and bolted for the door. 

***

Growls and snarls echoed among the trees as they ran. "Come on, Ghost," Jon urged his direwolf. Sansa was close and she needed their help. He sped up, desperate to find her before anyone could hurt her.

When they reached her, she was surrounded by half a dozen men, one of them already down and bleeding out on the roots of the tree she was driven back against.

One of the men nocked an arrow onto his crossbow and aimed it at the silvery wolf. Jon ordered Ghost to kill that one first. The direwolf managed to rip out two men's throats before the remaining ones even realized he was there.

Three of them turned their attention on Ghost, but the fourth kept stalking toward Sansa, not losing sight of his target. From the corner of his eye, Jon saw the other men circling Ghost, but Sansa snarled and his head snapped back to the man who was assaulting her.

Jon whistled to catch the man's attention. He whirled around, surprise flickering over his pockmarked face. He charged at Jon, wildly slashing a knife at him. Jon stepped aside at the last moment, letting the other man tire himself out as he worked himself up to go in for the kill.

He watched as Sansa and Ghost brought down the first of the other three assailants together, and Jon's attacker took advantage of his distraction to strike again. Jon spun and pivoted, but too much weight landed on his ankle as he almost lost his balance and the joint was bent too far.

Infuriated by the pain, Jon reached for his own dirk, grabbed the man by the shoulder and tugged him back, his armed hand flying for his neck, the other man's hands clawing at thin air as he tried to defend himself.

Jon grasped him by the scruff of his neck and hacked at his throat. The knife went in several times, and blood gushed from the gashes, splattering onto Jon's face and chest. Jon released him and he dropped to the ground.

Sansa was lying down by the tree, panting heavily, but she appeared unharmed. He took off into the trees, trying to join Ghost to chase after the men who got away, but halfway across a clearing his ankle buckled and he collapsed onto the grass. 

He lay there for a while, the breath knocked out of him, but eventually he pushed himself up into a sitting position.

Sansa was slowly approaching him, keeping a safe distance. His heart nearly leapt out of his chest at the sight of her.

"Are you hurt?" she asked.

He stared back at her in silence, unable to speak. "I twisted my ankle, is all," he explained finally, still lightly panting. "It'll heal. Are you?"

She shook her head, narrowing her eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"A raven came from the Tallharts," he answered. "The message said the wolf had returned and that they were going to hunt it down. I couldn't let that happen. I needed to know that you were safe."

She closed the distance between them, sitting down next to him. "Thank you."

He smiled, overcome by the desire to touch her and pull her closer. Tentatively he peeled off his gloves and reached out to put a hand on her belly, joy warming his chest when she didn't flinch or hiss at him. Her skin was warm and stretched thin and her tits had almost doubled in size. Her hair was brighter and her skin was glowing in the bright sunlight.

His chest felt tight and his eyes stung, even as desire stirred in his groin, his blood still up because of the thrill of the fight. 

***

Sansa knew she shouldn't let Jon touch her, but she wanted him to. Besides, the babe growing inside her was also his, she could never be cruel enough to deny him. 

The feel of his warm hand on her skin ignited sparks in her blood. She'd tried so hard not to think about this, about his mouth and hands on her skin, the feel of his arms around her, but now she had to resist her body's urge to lean into his touch.

"How is..." he started. "Is everything all right?"

"The babe is fine," she answered.

He frowned, but nodded. "I've missed you." His voice was rough.

She shouldn't say it. She shouldn't give him hope, or make herself believe it was still possible. "I've missed you, too." His hand was still on her skin, and she had to swallow a whine, trying not to betray how much she'd craved his touch. She needed more, but she couldn't let him notice.

Their eyes met and the air felt heavy around them. _Too late._ The rush of the fight was still in her blood and his warm smell was all around her. His jerkin and part of his face were splattered with the blood of the men he'd killed and he was looking at her with those hungry dark eyes.

Liquid warmth coiled in her loins, and she licked her lips, his eyes following the movement. Before she could think about what she was doing, she was in his lap, straddling him, her hands were in his hair and she was  crushing their mouths together.

He groaned, grabbing her arse, and responded greedily to her kiss. "Sansa," he rasped in that deep voice and she feared she was about to melt into a puddle. 

She started clawing at his jerkin, urging him to take it off, and he obeyed eagerly. She pushed him to his back, dragging her nails down his chest and bent down to kiss him again, her hair falling down around them. She groaned in frustration when she realized her belly was preventing her from pushing her body flush against his.

She nipped at his bottom lip and his chin, the taste of blood melting on her tongue, and she sat back up, pulling him with her. He ran his hands up the skin of her back, grabbing fistfuls of hair and inclining his head to close his mouth over a nipple. She mewled, the caress of his warm wet tongue shooting straight to her core.

He left a trail of kisses up to her neck, his large hands cupping and kneading her breasts. He growled in appreciation. "Your tits feel so nice. You look so gorgeous. I love you, Sansa."

For a moment she froze, but she disguised it by bucking her hips. She could feel his arousal rubbing against her sex. 

"Jon," she breathed. "I need you right now!" She was too far gone to care about the begging tone of her voice. Desperately, she reached for the ties of his breeches, ignoring the inner voices warning her, giving in to her body's instincts. It took some adjusting and wiggling, but finally she managed to free his cock. He felt so hot and hard in her hand, she couldn't wait any longer.

She pushed herself up on her knees and lined him up at her entrance. Slowly but surely she lowered herself onto him, hissing at the slight sting caused by her impatience, but she pushed through, eager to take in his full length. She rolled her hips slowly, moaning in satisfaction at the feeling of him filling her up completely. 

"So hot, so tight, so wet for me," Jon babbled under her as she circled her hips to make him hit all the sweet spots. She grasped his hands and laced their fingers together, using them as leverage to bounce up and down on his cock. 

He released one of her hands, curling his own around the side of her swollen belly, his eyes dark and filled with awe and desire. "You look glorious like this," he rasped.

She slowed down again, angling her hips just so. Jon growled in frustration at her errant rhythm and fluctuating pace, but for now she ignored him. For now, she just wanted to use his body and his cock, and take her pleasure from him.

Jon seemed to catch on to her mood and brushed his fingers lower, sliding them between her thighs to pinch at her nub. She cried out in response, a yelp followed by a sharp hiss, and tightened her grasp on his other hand, slamming it down, forcing another growl from Jon's throat. She could feel it rumble through his body.

He pinched her again, and she clamped down on him, their moans mingling as both of their bodies grew slick from exertion. Her hands flew up to knead her breasts and tease her nipples, as Jon's fingers dug into her hips and he rolled her pearl between his thumb and forefinger.

She rolled her hips to the rhythm of his fingers, blades of grass cutting into the skin of her knees as her own ragged panting filled her ears. She bit her lip, drawing blood, and tensed, her own nails biting into her sensitive flesh, and then her release crashed through her body. Air rushed from her mouth in a giddy, shuddering laugh as her cunt fluttered and clenched around Jon's cock.

She slapped his hand away from her nub and slumped sideways against his chest, licking the salty sweat from his neck. She nipped at his skin and nuzzled at it. 

He smacked her arse and rumbled into her ear: "Get on your hands and knees, little wolf, I want to fuck you."

Her need for control satisfied for now, she pushed herself up to obey him. She crawled a couple of feet away from him, challenging him to chase her, and wiggled her hips, grinning at him over her shoulder.

A snarl ripped its way up his throat and then he was on her. He grabbed her hips and pulled them back. He rubbed the head of his cock up and down in the wetness still left from her climax. She moaned. Her folds were still sensitive. He entered her in a long steady push, filling her up again. Jon groaned as Sansa gasped.

He gripped her hips and started gliding in and out of her, slow but deep. As she arched her back, he picked up his pace, hitting a spot deep inside of her, bringing back that sweet ache. She could already feel the tension building again. Jon grunted as his rhythm faltered for a moment. 

She thrust her arse back with a whine, urging him to resume his movements. He responded eagerly and when he started moving again, she shoved her hips back, meeting him thrust for thrust, her fingers digging into the dirt to keep herself up.

"Come for me, sweet little wolf. Howl for me," he groaned.

The way he was pounding into her swollen cunt, so deep and hard, was almost too much to take, but still she found herself begging for more. "Please, Jon," she whimpered. "Please."

When her peak hit her, she pushed back so hard that for a couple of moments Jon could do nothing more than rut against her, and she howled.

When Jon started driving his cock into her again, his pace grew erratic. His hands grabbed her hips harder, sliding her back and forth over his cock. He steadied her hips then, starting to thrust again, harder and deeper than before. After a few more strokes, she felt his warm seed pulse into her, as he let out an inhuman growl.

He collapsed against her back, falling to his side, pulling her against him. He nuzzled her neck, panting, his heartbeat resonating through her body. After a couple of minutes his softening cock slipped out of her, and his breathing returned to normal. 

He slid an arm under her and started peppering her shoulder with kisses, suckling at her skin and grazing it with his teeth. Sansa hummed in appreciation, her body pleasantly limp and satisfied from their rough lovemaking. 

A breeze raised goosebumps on her arms and legs, cooling the sweat on their damp bodies, and with it came a chill caused by the growing tension in Jon's body. She could feel him gathering his courage and she licked her lips, silently begging him not to ruin the moment. He sucked in a breath.  _Don't,_ she thought.

"Will you come back home now?" he asked. 

She closed her eyes, exhaling through her nose. She twisted around to look at him, telling herself she was brave enough to do this. "I don't know," she told him honestly. "I need time to think."

His arms tightened around her, and disappointment, anger and pain flickered in his eyes. He squeezed them shut, clenching his jaw, and nodded.

 

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the final chapter! I finished another WIP :D 
> 
> Wrapping up stories in a satisfying way is so difficult, so I hope you'll enjoy it :)

Before Sansa had come back into his life, Jon had used numbness to cover the gaping hole inside of him. He'd let his rage shield him from all the pain he didn't want to feel, let it burn away all his doubts and misgivings, and had convinced himself he didn't feel anything.

But then she'd barged in, turning his life upside down, reviving him inside and making him feel again. It had scared him at times, because it wasn't unlike falling down, but it didn't matter as long as she was there to catch him.

Now he had to learn how to live again, without her there to guide him. Somehow he kept going, one day at a time, sometimes only one hour at a time, but those days and hours passed and he was still alive, doing his duty.

Soon after he'd left Sansa in the Wolfswood, the Ryswells announced they'd be leaving Winterfell. Jon's initial reaction was suspicion, but there was no reason for it. They'd grown tired of scheming, and wanted to go home, so he let them. Part of him still yearned to rip them to pieces with his bare hands, but they no longer presented a threat, leaving him no reason to go through with his plans.

Sparring usually calmed him down, taking his mind off things, even if he sometimes had a hard time finding a sparring partner. He'd already beaten three of them into the dirt this morning. He tossed his blunt sword and gloves aside and started pulling at the ties of his leathers. He removed his tunic to wipe away the sweat that was beading on his forehead and dripping down his neck.

Jon turned his head as a horn resounded from the courtyard's watch tower. They weren't expecting any visitors today. He headed for the archway connecting the yards to find out what was going in.

The courtyard was alive with a buzz of murmurs when he arrived there, and it didn't take long for him to identify the cause of the agitation. Ghost came trotting through the gates, accompanied by Sansa, whose protruding belly was stretching the fabric of her grey roughspun dress.

Their eyes met and she offered him a cautious smile. His legs seemed to have stopped working, keeping him tethered to the spot from where he'd first seen her. 

"You came back," he whispered roughly. 

Her smile grew wider, lighting up her face. 

***

Jon took Sansa's hand as he led her inside, twining their fingers together. He couldn't keep his eyes off her, taking deep breaths to take in her scent and assure himself it was really her and he wasn't dreaming.

"You came back," he whispered again, when they'd arrived in his chambers.

"Well, I can't have a babe all by myself in the middle of the woods, can I?" She took a deep breath. "It's hot in here," she commented, pulling at the neckline of her dress. "I don't... I don't feel so well," she panted.

Panicked, he closed the distance between them. "Sansa, are you all right?" He approached her, wincing at the foreign scents on the dress she was wearing.

"All of those people were staring at me," she muttered, and realization dawned on him. It would take some time for her to get used to living inside these walls again. 

"Come here," he ordered her. When she came closer, he clasped her elbow and wrapped his free hand around her throat.

He tightened his grip and squeezed, watching her eyes flutter closed. Her hand closed around his wrist, her thumb circling his pulse. He only released her when she slapped his hand. 

He pulled her close, letting her bury her face in his neck. "Better now?" he asked. "Let's get you out of this dress."

***

Jon was moving inside of her in long, slow strokes, chest pressed against her back, hand on her hip, her foot propped up on his thigh. His hand slid up her side to cup one breast, sending shivers up her spine. He rolled her nipples between two fingers as his rhythm began to grow more urgent. 

He was hitting that sweet spot inside of her, splaying his hand flat between her breasts, her body growing tense as she approached her climax. She turned her head around to pull his lips into a messy kiss. She was so close.

Sansa pushed her arse back and began undulating her hips, setting a new pace as she slid over him. Mewling, she covered his hand with her own, clasping his fingers as her other hand clawed at the sheets.

Suddenly she erupted around him, sobbing as her peak hit her. When she slumped against him, he started thrusting into her, gripping her thigh for purpose, and within moments he grunted into her ear as she felt his seed pulse into her. He bit down on her shoulder as he rocked his hips against her, riding out his release. He collapsed, kissing her neck and pulling her closer. 

Sansa closed her eyes, letting herself sink into that peaceful bliss only coupling could give her. She let her foot slide off his thigh and twined their fingers together between her breasts. She'd never had any qualms about trusting him with her body, that had always been the easy part.

She wanted to be with him, otherwise she wouldn't have returned to Winterfell, but she wouldn't be able to fully trust him until she was certain that he trusted her as well. Jon had never used her like so many men before him had, but part of her was still afraid he thought of her as a lapdog he could own and control instead of the wolf she was.

She turned around in his arms, brushing a sweaty curl from his forehead. "Jon," she whispered, trying to catch his attention. His eyes flew open, focusing on hers.

"I"-- she licked her lips. "I love you," she told him. "And I want to be with you. But I need to know if there's anything else you haven't told me."

He averted his eyes. Her nostrils flared.  _So there is._ "Will you tell me?" Her voice trembled.

His throat bobbed up and down. "I don't know if I can."

"Why not?" She flinched at her sharp tone, but she didn't truly regret it, she was tired of being fooled.

Finally he met her eyes and she saw fear flicker in his. "I'm afraid you'll leave me again if I do."

Her mind started reeling, but she closed her eyes to calm herself down, forbidding her imagination to come up with the most horrible explanations for his concern. She swallowed heavily. "You gave me time, so I'll give it to you as well," she told him in a strangled voice, her throat aching with the tears she was trying to hold back. "But you'll have to tell me eventually, Jon."

"I know," he nodded. "I know." 

***

When Sansa's birthing pains started coming, the midwife tried to convince Jon a man had no place in the birthing chamber. If looks could kill, the woman would have dropped to the floor in a heartbeat, but she was stubborn and seemed unimpressed by Jon's glares and growls.

Sansa settled their argument before it could escalate by wailing that she wanted him. He pushed past the midwife and through the half-open door to cross the room in three strides, kneeling next to the birthing stool. 

Seeing Sansa in such pain and being unable to ease any of it was torture. He knew she needed him, but his anger at being so powerless was distracting him. He brushed her hair back and wiped her forehead. He held her hand and let her crush his fingers. He whispered sweet nothings into her ear and hummed softly, but helpless fury coursed through his body, just below his skin.

The servants attending to his wife flinched when he glanced at them, but he ignored them, he only cared about his little wolf. But when he snapped and snarled at a maid who tried to offer him a cold wet cloth and the girl fled from the room in tears, Sansa screamed at him to leave her alone.

Defeated, he stalked off and bolted for the stairs, relieved when he reached the ground floor and stepped out into the crisp morning air. He threw his head back, closing his eyes as he exhaled through his nose. Sansa was doing so well, she was so strong, but he couldn't help thinking about his own mother. 

What if the babe was like him, what if Sansa lost her life bringing it into the world? Would he be able to love it? Would he even survive losing her, knowing she was completely and forever gone from this world? If the worst should happen, perhaps the Red Woman could bring her back to him. He shook his head and started pacing.  _No,_ he couldn't do that to her. 

Time became meaningless as he stomped around the courtyard, scaring off anyone who crossed his path, until finally a babe's wail reached his ears from one of the keep's highest windows. He flew up the stairs again, almost running over the maester in his haste to get back to her.

The room smelled of blood and flowers, but Sansa was sitting up in the bed, her face pale and tired, but a smile on her lips. 

Slowly he closed the distance separating him from the bed. When she looked up, her smile grew brighter,  and she clutched the bundle in her arms closer to her chest.

He stared down at the tiny babe in Sansa's arms. Most of her body was wrapped up in swaddling clothes, only her chubby face and a tuft of dark curls uncovered. She was awake, gaze unfocused, but her eyes were an unmistakable deep purple. 

He dismissed the maester and the other servants and sat down on the edge of the bed. "She's beautiful," Sansa sighed, glancing up at him. 

He nodded, overwhelmed by too many emotions all at once to speak. It took several efforts to finally swallow the lump in his throat. "You must have questions."

Sansa didn't answer, she seemed too lost in the blissful adoration of their daughter. A small voice in the back of his mind suggested he should ignore it for the time being, answer her questions if she came up with them herself.

"You mean her eyes?" she mused, destroying that sliver of wicked, selfish hope. "They must be your mother's eyes. Isn't it nice to finally have at least a part of her?"

He was tempted to let her believe that, to leave her in her ignorance, but he knew he shouldn't. "They're not my mother's eyes," he heard himself saying. 

Sansa frowned. "I don't understand."

He offered her a sad excuse for a smile. "My time is up," he told her. "I'll have to tell you the truth now."

"I used to think the truth was always either terrible or boring," she commented.

He huffed. "I suppose it's not boring."

Jon forced his mouth to form the words he needed to tell the story, Sansa listening attentively, until he'd told her everything he knew and most of the things he only suspected.  Whatever struggle was going on inside Sansa mind, he could not tell, but it had reduced her face to a mess of furrowed lines and billowing tears.

"Sansa?" he tried. "Please, say something."  _Anything._

She wiped her face with the sleeve of her bedrobe. "I'm too tired for this right now," she told him, averting her eyes. "I need to sleep."

He nodded, clenching his fists, and left her alone with her thoughts. 

***

Sansa and the babe took up residence in the lord's chambers. Jon wasn't sure his company was wanted, so he retreated to Sansa's old room, where at least a hint of her smell still lingered. At night he visited them to watch them sleep or talk to them. If his voice ever woke Sansa, she never let him notice.

The maester informed him Sansa was recovering swiftly and that the babe was growing quickly. The news pleased him, but it also scared him. If they were both doing well, she might leave sooner rather than later.

One night he found himself looking down at their daughter in her cradle again. Her tiny hands were clenched into fists and she was smacking and licking her lips, still half asleep, but starting to toss. He sighed. He'd have to go soon.

He almost jumped when Sansa's voice drifted over his shoulder. "You can pick her up and hold her, if you want. She'll be awake any moment now."

Mouth agape, he turned to her. She was the only one able to sneak up on him like that. "Sansa, I..."

She sighed, her shoulders visibly rising and falling. "I know you've been coming here every night," she told him.

"You do?" he asked, swallowing heavily.

"Of course." He could see her rolling her eyes in the faint light of the fire. She moved past him and lifted their babe out of her cradle, supporting her small head. She turned around and tried to put the babe in his arms.

He flinched, his panicked eyes flitting to Sansa's. "What if I drop her or break her?"

She shook her head. "Don't be silly." She tucked the babe into the crook of his elbow and released her. Her weight was so slight in his arms and her little face was the most adorable thing he'd ever seen. His heart swelled inside his chest and he was overcome by a feeling he didn't have words for. His breath hitched as she started to fuss.

"She's hungry," Sansa clarified, lifting her from his arms again. She retreated to the bed, propping herself up against the pillows and patted the space next to her. Jon walked over and climbed up next to her, toeing off his boots, if only because standing there in the middle of the room made him uncomfortable.

He watched as Sansa untied the laces of the shift she was wearing and offered her teat to their daughter. She latched on eagerly and started sucking. Mother and daughter held their gazes on each other and Jon felt as if was witnessing a conversation without words between the two of them. It was a connection he couldn't understand and part of him thought it would be better to leave.

Sansa interrupted his thoughts by saying: "I want to name her Lyanna."

He glanced up at her to find her looking at him. "I-- I'd like that."

"Why were you afraid to tell me?" she asked, her eyes focusing on the babe again. 

"I told you," he murmured. "I thought you'd leave me again if I did."

"Why?" Her tone was surprised and curious.

"I'm not who you thought I was," he explained.  

She shrugged. "You're still the same Jon."

"I'm a dragon. I killed my mother. Thousands of people died because of my parents." He hated pointing it out to her. Perhaps she hadn't thought of any of it herself, and now he was drawing her attention to those horrible facts.

"None of that was your fault," she comforted him. She reached for his hand, twining their fingers together and waited until he looked up to meet her eyes. "You can be whoever you choose to be, my wolf." She smiled, squeezing his hand, and that feeling he'd experienced when he had held Lyanna for the first time threatened to overwhelm him again.

*** 

Sansa smiled in relief and tiptoed out of the door. Lyanna was finally starting to sleep through the night and Sansa didn't wish to disturb her now she'd fallen asleep.

Jon was waiting for her when she returned from the nursery. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, her wolf skin in his lap, absentmindedly stroking the fur on it. He must have found it where she'd left it out on the bed earlier.

She sat down next to him and he handed her her skin. She took it and placed it in her own lap, glancing up at the sullen look on his face.

"Where will you go?" he asked her.

Her lips parted in surprise. "Where will we go? That is, if we're planning to go anywhere. We're home, aren't we?"

He sat up a little straighter, eyeing her curiously. She picked up her wolf skin again and gave it back to him. He blinked and opened his mouth, but the words he was trying to utter wouldn't come out.

"Keep it safe for me?" she asked him. "I don't need it anymore."

Tentatively he accepted her skin, carefully holding it in his arms. "I don't understand," he muttered.

She offered him a smile. "For years, people tried to control my life, they made all my choices for me, and I suffered so much because of that. All I wanted was to be free."

He swallowed. "What do you want now?" His voice sounded strangled.

"Let me finish, Jon," she teased him, arching an eyebrow. "I no longer need to be a wolf to be free. I'm free to make my own choices now and I choose you."

He put her wolf skin down on the covers beside him and pulled her closer, cupping her cheek. "Truly?" he asked, searching her eyes.

She nodded and leaned in to press a kiss to his lips, sliding her hands up his chest. 

"You haven't answered my question yet," he pointed out in a rough voice when they parted for air.

"What question?" she asked, her mind already set on other plans.

"What do you want?" he repeated, indulging her by pulling her in for another kiss.

"I want to fill Winterfell with joy and laughter again," she breathed against his lips. "We'll need to make more babes." She disentangled herself from his embrace and scooted back up the bed.

He rolled onto all fours to face her, a smirk on his face. "Is that right, little wolf?"

She nodded, licking her lips as she opened her legs for him.

"Let's get on with it then," he growled as he pounced on her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, after finishing this one, I'll need to take a break from this universe. You can expect the promised AU of this story in a couple of weeks though!
> 
> I know there's one plot hole in this I never really addressed again and that's why Mel is locked up in the dungeons. Jon can't kill her because she brought him back to life, but he can't let her burning Shireen go unpunished either. I imagined spending the rest of her days in darkness would be a fitting punishment for such a fervent supporter of the Lord of Light. 
> 
> After Tuesday, I finally have some time off from work after three crazy weeks! I'm planning to finish some of my shorter fics, there's a longer one shot I've started writing and I also want to do my kink fics for the A-Z challenge! 
> 
> Not sure which one I'll finish first, but I'll be able to post/update one of those by Thursday!


End file.
